/  ' 


LIBRARY 


OF    THE 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


Class 


A   STUDY   OF   SOCIAL    ELEMENTS 


SOCIAL    ELEMENTS 


INSTITUTIONS,    CHARACTER 


PROGRESS 


BY 


CHARLES    RICHMOND    HENDERSON 


.    NEW   YORK 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

1898 


to 


GENERAL 

COPYRIGHT,   1898,  BY 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


This  book  has  been  adopted  by  the  Indiana  Reading  Circle  Board 

/or  required  reading.     It  may  be  proper  to  note,  hotvever,  that 

this  recommendation  must  not   be  construed  as  an  approval  by 

the  Hoard  or  any  of  its  members  0/  every  principle  or  doctrine 

contained  therein. 


J.  B,  Cashing  *  C<>.     Berwick  ft  Smith 

Norw 1  M:i^s.  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

This  volume  is  prepared  for  readers  and  for  students,  and 
each  person  will  treat  it  as  he  prefers.  To  students  it  is  recom- 
mended that  writing,  map-drawing,  and  discussion  accompany 
the  reading  according  to  the  order  suggested  in  the  Appendix. 
If  the  reader  can  find  a  company  of  congenial  spirits  to  talk 
over  the  subjects  with  him,  the  impression  will  be  more  dis- 
tinct and  clear.  The  matters  to  be  discussed  and  explained 
are  facts  of  our  every-day  life,  not  remote  and  unfamiliar. 
Emerson  says,  "Aristotle,  or  Bacon,  or  Kant  propounds  some 
maxim  which  is  the  keynote  of  philosophy  henceforward. 
But  I  am  more  interested  to  know  that,  when  at  last  they  have 
hurled  out  their  grand  word,  it  is  only  some  familiar  experi- 
ence of  every  man  in  the  street.  If  it  be  not,  it  will  never 
be  heard  of  again." 

In  so  brief  a  treatment  more  questions  are  raised  than 
answered.  The  author  has  earnestly  sought  to  stir  and  direct 
personal  investigation  and  reflection  rather  than  to  furnish 
ready-made  and  dogmatic  opinions.  He  has  desired  to  be 
constructive  and  hope-inspiring  rather  than  discouraging  and 
destructive.  The  Marquis  of  Mirabeau  said  finely:  "The 
method  of  suppression  and  of  destruction  is  absolutely  op- 
posed to  the  art  of  government;  it  is  the  heroic  mode  of 
suicide.  An  ignorant  surgeon  knows  how  to  cut  off  a  limb; 
Esculapius  would  treat  and  heal  it.  Four  treatments  of  the 
former  kind,  and  there  would  remain  nothing  but  the  trunk  " 
(L 'ami  des  hommes).  Controversy  is  avoided  as  barren. 
Guyau  tells  of  two  savages  who  fought  for  a  pair  of  ear-rings. 
The  victor  carried  away  the  jewels  in  triumph,  but  could  not 
wear  them,  for  the  conquered  competitor  had  succeeded  in 
biting  off  both  his  ears!     Reasons  for  personal  conclusions 

v 


10       )7 


vi  Preface 

are  offered  for  consideration,  and  then  the  matter  is  submitted 
to  the  candid  reader. 

The  philosophical  belief  which  runs  through  all  the  chapters 
is  not  pessimism,  and  it  is  not  optimism,  but  rather  what 
George  Eliot  called  meliorism.  Well  did  our  great  Lieber 
say:  "We  must  find  our  way  through  all  these  mazes.  .  .  . 
There  are  not  a  few  who,  seeing  the  perversion  of  principles 
follow  the  besetting  fallacy  of  men,  and  seek  salvation  from 
one  evil  in  its  opposite,  as  if  the  means  of  escaping  death  by 
fire  were  freezing  to  death.  The  opposite  is  hardly  ever  the 
cure  of  an  evil.  A  glutton  would  not  take  the  right  step  of 
amendment  by  the  resolution  of  starving  himself  to  death.  .  .  . 
No  good  is  done,  when  the  ship  of  state  is  in  danger,  by  cut- 
ting away  the  very  ribs  of  the  ship"  {Civil Liberty,  p.  19). 

Quotations  from  the  "literature  of  power"  are  freely  used, 
and  with  a  definite  purpose.  Poets,  such  as  Goethe  and 
Herder,  have  had  a  presentiment  (Ahnung)  of  laws  and  prin- 
ciples which  men  of  science  afterwards  develop,  formulate,  and 
verify.  The  references  serve  to  give  credit  to  our  spiritual 
benefactors;  to  give  readers  a  taste  of  the  finer  springs  of 
wisdom,  which  shall  make  them  thirst  for  deeper  draughts 
from  the  same  wholesome  fountains;  and  to  give  the  weight  of 
authority  where  the  judgment  of  experts  have  intrinsic  value. 

C.  R.  Henderson. 
The  University  of  Chicago, 
1898. 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface      .  v 

PART   I 

BASIS   OF  SOCIETY  IN  NATURE 

CHAPTER   I 

Introduction i 

CHAPTER  II 
Nature  in  Relation  to  Social  Life        .        .        .        .      13 

PART    II 

THE   SO  CIA  I   PERSON 

CHAPTER    III 
/  The  Social  Member:   the  Person 41 

PART    III 

SO  CIA  I   INSTITUTIONS 

CHAPTER    IV 
y  The  Family 62 

CHAPTER  V 

Auxiliary  Institutions 78 

vii 


viii  Table  of  Contents 


CHAPTER  VI 

PAGE 

Social  Arts  of  Creation,  Communication,  and  of  the 

/Esthetic  Life 94 

CHAPTER   VII 
Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization       .        .        .113 

CHAPTER   VIII 
Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment       .        .        .141 

CHAPTER   IX 
The  Social  Movement  for  Economic  Betterment        .     167 

CHAPTER  X 
Social  Misery,  Pauperism,  and  Crime     ....    207 

CHAPTER  XI 
The  School  and  its  Social  Service        ....    228 

CHAPTER  XII 
Socialized  Idealism.    Religion  and  the  Church  .        .    259 

CHAPTER  XIII 
The  Natural  and  Spiritual  Bonds  of  a  People  .        ._  276 

CHAPTER   XIV 
The  State  and  the  Government 292 


Table  of  Contents  ix 


PART   IV 

SOCIAL   PSYCHOLOGY,    ORDER,   AND  PROGRESS 

CHAPTER   XV 

PAGE 

Some  Problems  of  Social  Psychology    .        .        .        .318 

CHAPTER  XVI 
Harmony  with  the  Present  Order  ....    342 

CHAPTER  XVII 
Social  Progress 370 

APPENDIX 

Directions  for  Local  Studies,  Maps,  and  Topics  for 

Discussion 395 


PART    I 


BASIS    OF   SOCIETY   IN   NATURE 


-+o+- 


CHAPTER   I 
Introduction 

I.  Outline  of  Contents  and  Statement  of  Purpose.  —  The 
particular  object  of  this  book  will  be  to  direct  attention  to  the 
phenomena  of  human  associations;  to  teach  the  methods  of 
classifying  facts  of  this  order;  to  give  training  in  the  search 
for  efficient  causes;  to  show  how  to  interpret  social  tendencies 
and  movements;  to  interpret  social  duties  which  arise  out  of 
conditions  and  relations;  to  guide  in  the  attainment  and  criti- 
cism of  social  ideals  of  welfare;  to  stimulate  and  direct  interest 
in  methods  of  betterment  approved  by  experience;  to  indicate 
the  foundations  of  social  order;  to  disclose  the  principles  of 
social  progress, —  forces,  laws,  and  methods;  and  especially 
to  show  the  connection  of  order  and  progress  with  the  institu- 
tions and  methods  of  education. 

Sociology  is  a  science  of  survey,  synthetic,  teaching  us  to 
comprehend  what  special  sciences  dissect,  analyze,  and  treat 
apart.  It  will  be  the  aim  of  the  writer  to  indicate  at  the  suit- 
able points  the  relation  of  each  special  "study"  or  science  to 
other  studies  and  to  the  united  interest  of  mankind.  Social 
interest  will  be  taken  as  an  important  principle  for  the  co- 
ordination of  studies.  It  is  hoped  that  this  method  will 
impart  a  sense  of  unity,  movement,  progress,  and  utility  to  all 
branches  of  school  work. 

II.  The  Field  of  Study  :  the  System  of  T fuman  Associations. 
—  Every  one  knows  something  of  the  state  in  which  he  lives, — 

B  I 


Social  Elements 


its  boundaries  on  the  north,  south,  east,  and  west,  its  surface, 
rivers,  climate,  soil,  and  natural  productions,  its  people  and 
their  occupations.  There  is  thejiome,  the  business,  the  circle 
of  friends,  the  church,  the  pleasure  resorts,  and  all  else  that 
is  of  human  interest.  One  knows  the  county  seat,  with  its 
"streets  of  residences  and  shops,  its  offices  and  trades,  its  politi- 
cal schemes  and  public  assemblies.  One  can  tell  something 
of  the  capital  city  of  the  state,  with  its  public  buildings,  its 
higher  courts,  and  its  urban  airs.  From  stories  of  old  settlers, 
speeches  on  anniversary  occasions,  and  from  special  histories 
or  historical  articles,  the  memory  has  preserved  some  frag- 
ments of  the  past, —  the  struggles  of  the  early  pioneers,  the 
digging  of  canals,  the  introduction  of  railroads,  the  growth  of 
various  manufactures.  Every  reader  has  something,  at  least  a 
bud,  of  the  flower  of  public  spirit,  something  of  the  reformer's 
fire  and  zeal,  something  of  the  sacred  flame  of  an  ambition  to 
leave  the  world  better  than  he  found  it. 

III.  Means  of  learning  the  Facts.  —  Very  good  and  famil- 
iar instruments  of  learning  will  be  accessible  to  most  readers: 
a  school  geography,  with  its  maps  and  descriptions,  a  rail- 
road guide,  an  article  on  the  state  in  some  encyclopedia,  a 
history  of  the  commonwealth,  and  newspapers  published  at 
the  county  town  and  at  the  capital.  Thus  equipped  we  may 
start  on  a  "little  journey  in  the  world."  All  journeys  and  all 
voyages  must  start  from  home.  Voyages  usually  take  persons 
into  unknown  regions.  This  journey,  "  personally  conducted," 
will  start  with  familiar  facts.  It  may  lead  us  to  see  that  our 
own  state  is  connected  in  various  ways  with  the  wide,  wide 
world,  and  that  we  must  even  care  something  for  "abroad." 

IV.  The  Physical  Basis  of  Society.  —  A  rapid  and  superficial 
sketch  will  bring  before  our  minds  the  main  features  of  the 
facts  with  which  we  have  to  deal.  Afterwards  we  can  take 
them  up  in  more  detail  and  ask  for  their  connections  and 
meaning. 

School  studies  have  already  made  the  imagination  familiar 
with  the  shape  of  the  earth  on  which  we  live.  It  may  best  be 
conceived  as  a  ball  turning  and  rolling  through  space,  with  a 
thin  crust  of  soil  and  wide  stretches  of  ocean  covering  its  sur- 
face.     The    inhabitants  of  this  earth   are  as   grass-hoppers, 


Introduction 


and  at  some  distance    the    planet  itself  would    look   smaller 
than  a  grasshopper. 

"  Each  floats  ever  and  on 
As  the  round  green  earth  is  floating 

Out  thro'  the  sea  of  space, 
Bearing  our  mortal  kind 

Parasites  soon  to  be  gone." 

In  some  states,  whose  territory  is  small  but  furnished  with 
"the  great  watch  towers  of  mountains,  purple-vestured,  grave 
and  silent,"  the  student  may  climb  to  a  height  which  will 
give  him  a  view  of  that  political  area  named  a  state.  But  any 
of  us  may,  winged  with  imagination,  and  assisted  by  poetic 
bicycle  or  prosaic  train,  take  a  bird's-eye  view  of  even  a  level 
and  monotonous  plain.  Its  silver  streams  glide  beneath  the 
shadowed  banks  and  past  rich  pastures  and  fertile  corn-fields. 
The  dark  forests  tell  of  tree-trunks,  ferns,  flowers,  and  wealth 
of  bird  life.  The  stone  quarry  and  the  coal  mine  give  promise 
of  building  material  and  fuel.  Perhaps  ores  are  dug,  or  oil  is 
pumped,  or  natural  gas  forces  its  way  to  the  surface.  Without 
this  firm  resting-place,  this  soil,  this  sun-visited  climate,  these 
vane-moving  winds,  this  water  supply,  these  species  of  animal 
and  plant  creatures  for  food  and  clothing  and  other  uses,  man 
could  not  exist.  Nature  is  not  man,  and  natural  forces  are 
not  society,  and  herds  of  cattle  are  not  associations,  but  man 
could  not  build  a  society  in  the  upper  air,  nor  out  of  mere 
thoughts.  The  bare  imagination  of  a  feast  will  not  still  his 
hunger,  and  a  logical  argument  will  not  render  him  that  ser- 
vice which  garden  vegetables  are  able  to  supply.  Men  are  a 
part  of  all  this  natural  world.  They  have  put  themselves  into 
the  miasmatic  swamps  which  have  been  cleared;  they  have 
mixed  their  ideas  with  the  furrows  which  have  modified  the 
very  climate  and  driven  fever  and  ague  into  the  outer  darkness 
of  ignorant  communities,  and  with  the  railroads  which  creep 
serpent-like  over  the  divides.  Nature,  therefore,  must  be 
brought  within  range  of  our  thought  on  society. 

V.  TJie  Social  Person. — The  community  is  composed  of 
individual  persons.  It  will  be  well  for  us  to  know  something 
of  the  bricks  which  are  to  be  built  into  our  edifice.     We  can- 


Social  Elements 


not  hope  to  construct  a  bridge  of  straws,  or  a  warehouse  of 
unburnt  clay.  These  human  beings  on  one  side  are  animals, 
with  the  physical  structure,  organs,  and  appetites  of  the  higher 
animals.  In  another  aspect  they  are  minds,  beings  who  think, 
who  aspire,  who  have  emotions,  who  reason,  who  resolve,  who 
have  a  capacity  and  an  inclination  for  society. 

VI  Classification  of  Institutions. — These  animal-spirits, 
creatures  of  two  worlds  so  strangely  and  wonderfully  joined, 
have  built  what  we  call  a  community.  Looking  on  this  society 
steadily,  and  with  the  help  of  previous  reflections  and  analyses, 
certain  great  classes  of  facts  begin  to  come  out, —  institutions, 
customs,  groups  of  persons. 

The  first  of  these  with  which  memory  begins  is  the  family. 
The  first  we  knew  of  ourselves  we  were  already  taking  part  in 
a  social  institution,  sometimes  as  petted  favorites,  sometimes 
as  disgraced  rebels. 

Our  next  personal  reminiscence  is  usually  that  of  a  school- 
house,  another  social  institution,  where  we  were  actors  and 
sufferers.  The  teacher  represented  to  us  the  officer  of  justice, 
the  regulator  of  conduct,  the  guide  of  life.  In  the  absence  of 
parents  she  assumed  some  of  the  duties  and  powers  of  the 
father  or  mother.  Under  such  tuition  we  learned  the  instru- 
ments of  speech  and  thought  more  perfectly,  and  in  the  con- 
flicts and  plays  of  the  recess  we  became  acquainted  with  the 
desires,  the  wants,  the  elemental  forces  of  society. 

But  if  we  were  fortunate  enough  to  have. a  country  residence, 
we  learned  at  home  and  in  intervals  of  school  life  that  there  is 
such  a  mode  of  social  activity  as  industry.  This  knowledge 
came  first  in  the  form  of  childish  games,  which  often  imitated 
the  occupations  of  our  elders.  Social  impulses  of  imitation 
and  affection,  of  command  and  authority,  led  us  to  share  more 
and  more  the  occupations  of  kitchen,  garden,  field,  shop, 
market.  Thus  the  economic  institutions  of  society  were  made 
familiar  to  us  as  personal  experiences. 

Within  the  home  the  theme  of  religion  was  discussed. 
Perhaps  there  was  the  rite  of  family  worship,  the  child's 
prayer  at  night  by  the  mother's  knee,  or  the  devotions  led  by 
One  of  the  parents.  Sometimes  the  Sunday  School  was  an 
early  introduction   into  this  mysterious  world  where    human 


Introduction 


beings  spoke  to  an  Invisible  Person.  We  learned  thus,  step 
by  step,  the  social  meaning  of  the  church. 

All  this  time  there  was  coming,  more  or  less  often,  into  the 
range  of  thought  and  interest,  the  government.  At  the  table 
something  is  said  of  a  shocking  murder,  of  the  search  for  the 
murderer,  of  his  arrest,  of  his  detention  in  jail,  of  his  trial, 
and  the  unfolding  of  a  terrible  story  of  greed,  lust,  or  revenge; 
of  the  night  when  the  jury  was  shut  up,  debating  the  sentence; 
of  the  solemn  verdict;  and,  finally,  the  awful  doom  hidden  in 
the  obscure  shadows  of  a  private  execution.  Or  in  some  less 
sensational  yet  impressive  way  the  functions  of  the  state  have 
been  isolated  in  our  thoughts  from  those  of  parents,  teachers, 
pastors,  and  editors.  The  stirring  scenes  of  a  political  cam- 
paign, the  torchlight  processions,  the  noisy  crowds  and  burst- 
ing powder,  so  dear  to  the  boy,  the  eloquent  speeches,  so 
wonderful  to  youth,  have  stirred  the  civic  feeling  and  made 
each  citizen  become  conscious  of  his  powers,  interests,  and 
duties  in  relation  to  government. 

Thus  one  by  one,  yet  all  together,  out  of  the  dark  clouds 
of  infantile  ignorance  each  social  member  becomes  aware  that 
he  has  entered  a  world  of  institutions, —  home,  school,  indus- 
try, church,  state. 

VII.  The  Inte?-nal  Forces  which  create  these  Institutions.  — 
The  human  mind  asks  very  early  after  causes,  although 
youths  are  too  easily  satisfied  with  almost  any  sort  of  authori- 
tative answer  they  may  chance  to  get  from  their  elders.  Some 
such  questions  as  the  following  are  natural  enough  when  quite 
young  persons  have  their  attention  called  to  the  differences 
between  the  visible  institutions  of  society  mentioned  above : 
Why  do  people  go  to  the  court-house?  Why  do  they  build 
schoolhouses?  Why  do  they  build  railroads,  establish  news- 
papers, organize  lodges,  hold  synods  and  conferences?  These 
questions  lead  straight  into  the  study  of  the  thoughts,  wants, 
desires  of  men.  Every  institution  which  is  taken  up  compels 
us  to  look  into  the  motives  of  human  beings.  Society  soon 
comes  to  be  regarded  as  a  spiritual  organization,  and  not 
merely  a  certain  arrangement  of  forms  of  matter.  Of  course 
it  is  as  constantly  observed  that  the  combined  efforts  of  men 
are  conditioned  by  the  physical  world  about  us,  and  that  we 


Social  Elements 


must  employ  natural  forces  to  realize  our  wishes  and  aspira- 
tions. The  study  of  this  interworking  of  mind  and  nature,  of 
thought  and  things,  is  always  with  us  in  our  consideration  of 
social  institutions. 

VIII.  Progress. — There  is  change,  movement.  That  which 
moves  attracts  our  attention.  The  people  are  always  asking 
about  a  man,  if  he  is  growing  richer;  of  a  town,  whether  it  is 
growing  larger;  of  a  newspaper,  if  it  is  increasing  its  circula- 
tion. American  people,  especially,  are  always  studying  statis- 
tics of  increase  in  the  production  of  grain,  cattle,  iron,  and 
all  industries. 

IX.  The  Lessons  of  History.  —  The  inquiry  into  present 
causes  and  changes  sometimes  induces  us  to  to  hear  stories  of 
the  past.  Studying  the  map  of  Boston,  we  wonder  why  the 
streets  are  so  crooked,  until  we  learn  that  these  streets  were 
laid  out  according  to  the  early  roads  and  paths  of  the  colonists. 
At  a  wedding  we  are  asked  by  the  children  why  a  gold  ring  is 
used  in  the  ceremony,  and  a  true  answer  would  compel  us  to 
go  back  to  very  ancient  customs.  In  a  thousand  ways  we  come 
to  see  that  the  present  cannot  explain  itself,  that  the  tree  we 
see  has  hidden  roots  planted  out  of  sight  and  deep  in  the 
past. 

In  the  attempt  to  explain  an  institution  by  discovering  what 
made  it,  we  come  upon  forces  which  are  not  yet  exhausted, 
and  which  are  carrying  us  forward.  It  is  natural  for  a  reason- 
ing being  to  be  somewhat  curious  about  what  is  going  to  happen 
to  this  world.  Will  it  burn  up  to-morrow?  Will  it  last  long 
enough  to  get  in  the  corn  crop?  Will  parents  be  cruel  enough 
to  whip  their  children  to  death  next  week?  Will  wheat  be 
worth  two  dollars  a  bushel  next  year?  Will  the  governments 
of  Europe  combine  to  crush  the  United  States?  Will  the 
criminal  element  be  strong  enough  to  burn  our  cities  and  make 
a  new  government  out  of  the  ruins?  Will  trade  unions  injure 
trade,  or  will  they  simply  forward  the  interests  of  wage  workers? 
These  are  specimens  of  questions  which  may  be  asked,  show- 
ing the  interests  of  men  in  the  future.  There  are  many  times 
when  we  care  comparatively  little  for  the  past;  for  it  is  gone, 
like  the  water  which  has  already  flowed  past  the  mill  and  can 
grind  no  grist.     The  actual  present  is  a  mere  point,  and  is 


Introduction 


instantly  gone.     Our  hopes,  ambitions,  fears,  desires,  all  have 
a  forward  look. 

X.  Social  Problems  of  Duty. — Just  as  natural  is  it  for  us 
to  ask  in  respect  to  each  social  institution  and  its  transforma- 
tion, what  can  we  do  about  it?  What  ought  we  to  do?  How 
can  we  best  prepare  to  meet  the  changes  which  are  sure  to 
come,  and  how  can  we  diminish  the  pain,  the  loss,  the  evil, 
that  must  destroy  us  unless  we  take  precautions  and  put  forth 
united  and  timely  effort? 

The  philosopher  may  not  feel  called  on  to  go  beyond  the 
explanation  of  social  life.  It  is  perfectly  proper  for  him  to 
make  a  business  of  revealing  all  the  causes,  near  and  remote, 
which  explain  what  we  see.  But  the  person  who  has  studied 
the  direction  and  strength  of  forces  is  best  adapted  to  foretell 
what  is  likely  to  happen,  and  what  means  give  most  promise 
of  promoting  the  common  interest.  The  philosopher  is  also 
a  citizen. 

It  is  wise,  however,  to  keep  these  investigations  somewhat 
separate  and  distinct  in  thought  and  treatment.  We  must  not 
adopt  a  theory  and  then  select  facts  to  prove  it.  It  should  be 
our  aim  first  of  all  to  understand  the  reality  with  which  we  are 
dealing;  at  the  same  time  to  seek  its  cause  in  past  and  present 
connections;  and  then  to  look  forward  to  the  direction  of 
forces,  so  far  as  they  are  within  our  power,  to  the  end  of 
advancing  human  welfare. 

XI.  Method  and  Order  of  Study  of  Society.  — The  task  of  all 
sciences  includes  answers  to  these  questions :  (i)  WThat  is  the 
fact  —  what  has  occurred?  (2)  In  the  particular  facts  is  there 
anything  general  —  regularly  repeated?  (3)  What  are  the 
causes  of  this  general  element  in  the  various  facts?  The  social 
sciences,  being  concerned  with  persons  as  well  as  with  things, 
must  take  account  of  the  preferences,  of  the  feelings,  pleas- 
ures, and  pains  of  men,  and  must  answer,  in  addition  to  the 
above  questions,  three  others:  (4)  What  is  the  value  of  the 
facts  observed  to  the  persons  concerned?  (5)  What  ought  to 
be  —  what  is  best  and  right?  (6)  What  measures  are  to  be 
taken  in  order  to  secure  what  is  desirable  for  men?  In  the 
study  of  natural  objects  our  interest  is  purely  theoretical,  and 
we  desire  simply  to  know.     But  when  we  come  to  political, 


8  Social  Elements 


economic,  aesthetic,  religious,  — all  human  affairs,  — we  must 
proceed  to  deal  with  practical  methods,  ways,  and  means. 

It  will  readily  be  seen  that  it  is  not  the  office  of  such  a  book 
as  this  to  teach  the  contents  of  all  the  sciences.  These  must 
be  learned  of  those  who  profess  them,  the  masters  in  the  fields 
of  chemistry,  physics,  geography,  biology,  psychology.  It  is 
our  present  duty  to  exhibit  the  social  whole  in  which  these 
special  studies  form  parts,  and  we  shall  borrow  from  each  in 
order  to  relate  all.  The  new  element  we  add  is  comprehen- 
sion, relation.  That  is  an  element  which  is  implied  in  each, 
but  cannot  be  displayed  by  each.  In  a  watch  factory  the 
various  parts  of  the  instrument  are  first  made  by  many  work- 
men, and  yet  there  is  no  timekeeper  until  they  are  all  — 
springs,  wheels,  jewels,  pivots,  posts  —  "assembled";  and  it 
is  the  business  of  a  certain  workman  to  bring  all  the  separate 
parts  into  one  effective  whole.  The  artist  who  assembles  the 
different  parts  may  not  be  able  to  make  any  one  of  them  as 
well  as  the  person  who  devotes  his  life  to  that  piece;  and  yet 
all  parts  are  useless  unless  they  are  connected  in  one  system 
and  made  complete  by  joining.  It  is  the  business  of  soci- 
ology to  "assemble"  the  elements  of  social  life,  to  present 
life  as  one,  and  not  a  heap  of  disconnected  parts,  each  a 
sphinx  so  long  as  it  is  apart  from  the  others. 

Miss  L.  J.  Sanderson  (in  the  Journal  of  Psycho- Asthenics, 
September,  1897)  tells  of  an  experiment  with  feeble-minded 
children,  who  were  trying  to  draw  pictures  of  a  duck.  "  A  con- 
stant race  is  kept  up  between  the  cage  and  the  blackboard; 
back  and  forth  they  go  till  the  thing  is  done.  Each  excels  in 
some  one  point.  One  duck  revels  in  fine  webbed  feet; 
another  has  a  most  graceful  bend  in  its  neck;  one  has  a 
shapely  body;  but  all  are  caricatures,  and  it  is  necessary  to 
write  below  the  attempt,  'This  is  a  duck.'  They  recognize 
their  failure.  .  .  .  The  next  day  the  duck  comes  again. 
The  different  points  are  carefully  noted  and  another  attempt 
is  made,  this  time  with  much  better  results."  After  many 
trials  the  pictures  are  at  least  so  like  the  bird  that  it  is  not 
necessary  to  label  them. 

The  world  of  our  observation  is  one  world,  which  the 
Greeks  called  a  Cosmos,  because  they  believed  that  it  was  an 


Introduction 


orderly  fact,  made  by  reason  and  that  could  be  understood 
by  reason.  This  world  presents  two  sides,  for  it  is  composed 
of  things  and  of  persons,  of  humanity  and  of  all  beside  that 
man  can  know. 

General  truths  and  laws  can  be  communicated  and  learned 
only  by  coming  into  direct  contact  with  things  and  persons, 
by  feeling  the  tension  of  experience,  and  by  setting  up  images 
of  the  appearances  of  the  world.  All  that  a  book  can  do  is  to 
bring  forward  the  images  of  thought  to  those  who  are  daily 
living  in  contact  with  objects  and  men,  and  thus  help  to  inter- 
pret that  life  which  we  all  enjoy  together.  Spirits  reveal 
themselves  through  visible,  tangible,  and  audible  realities. 
Institutions  are  the  embodiments  of  social  aims,  and  therefore 
with  these  we  begin. 

There  are  many  ways  of  approaching  our  subjects,  each 
good  for  its  purpose  and  audience.  It  is  sometimes  best  to 
begin  with  the  careful  study  of  a  child  in  the  home.  Others 
have  come  to  our  study  by  placing  the  discoveries  relating  to 
race  history  in  order,  beginning  with  the  lowest  and  earliest 
races  and  coming  up  to  our  own  times.  Spencer  and  Letour- 
neau  may  be  cited  as  notable  examples.  For  mature  students 
it  is  profitable  to  consider  the  theories  of  the  masters  of  social 
philosophy,  since  they  aid  the  mind  with  a  large  framework 
of  conceptions  by  which  the  world  is  seen  to  be  a  whole. 

The  right  method  is  to  proceed  from  the  present  to  the  past, 
because  the  present  is  better  understood,  and  then  knowledge 
can  be  tested  by  reality.  "The  true  scientific  method  is  to 
explain  the  past  by  the  present"  (Bagehot,  Physics  and Politics ', 
p.  60).  The  present  we  know  or  have  at  hand  to  reexamine; 
the  past  is  more  difficult  to  realize  and  test.  It  is  by  inter- 
preting the  little  events  and  objects  under  our  eyes  that  we 
acquire  the  power  of  reasoning  about  the  fragments  of  infor- 
mation relating  to  great  movements  of  history.  Newton's 
mind  rose  from  the  apple's  fall  to  consider  laws  of  the  heavenly 
bodies  and  their  motions  in  infinite  space.  Of  the  superior 
souls  of  early  New  England  their  eulogist  says:  — 


"  With  that  deep  insight  which  detects 
All  great  things  in  the  small; 
And  knows  how  each  man's  life  affects 
The  spiritual  life  of  all." 


io  Social  Elements 


Tennyson  declares  that  if  we  could  understand  absolutely 
all  about  the  flower  which  grows  in  the  crannied  wall,  roots 
and  all,  we  "should  know  what  God  and  man  is." 

Archimedes  was  given  the  mean  task  of  finding  out  for  the 
king  Hiero  if  the  goldsmith  had  cheated  him  by  mixing 
alloy  with  the  gold  of  a  crown.  The  philosopher  went  to 
bathe,  and  when  he  noticed  that  his  body  displaced  a  part  of 
the  water,  a  great  principle  flashed  across  his  mind  and  filled 
his  soul  with  the  triumph  of  discovery.  From  so  small  an 
event  and  so  inconsiderable  an  occasion,  the  great  mathemati- 
cian reasoned  his  way  to  the  universal  principle  that  a  body 
immersed  in  a  liquid  sustains  an  upward  pressure  equal  to  the 
weight  of  the  liquid  displaced. 

Bagehot  (Physics  and  Politics,  p.  167)  tells  the  story  of  the 
origin  of  two  important  histories  of  Greece,  those  of  Mitford 
and  of  Grote  :  — 

"  Some  seventy  years  ago  an  English  country  gentleman  named  Mitford, 
who,  like  so  many  of  his  age,  had  been  terrified  into  aristocratic  opinions 
by  the  first  French  Revolution,  suddenly  found  that  the  history  of  the 
Peloponnesian  War  was  the  reflex  of  his  own  time.  He  took  up  his  Thu- 
cydides,  and  there  he  saw,  as  in  a  mirror,  the  progress  and  the  struggles  of 
his  age.  It  required  some  freshness  of  mind  to  see  this;  at  least,  it  had 
been  hidden  for  many  centuries.  All  the  modern  histories  of  Greece  be- 
fore Mitford  had  but  the  vaguest  idea  of  it,  and  not  being  a  man  of  supreme 
originality,  he  would  doubtless  have  had  very  little  idea  of  it  either,  except 
that  the  analogy  of  what  he  saw  helped  him  by  a  telling  object-lesson  to 
the  understanding  of  what  he  read.  .  .  .  And  that  is  not  all.  Mr.  Grote, 
the  great  scholar  whom  we  have  had  lately  to  mourn,  also  recognized  the 
identity  between  the  struggles  of  our  modern  world,  and  taking  violently 
the  contrary  side  to  that  of  Mitford,  being  as  great  a  democrat  as  Mitford 
was  an  aristocrat,  wrote  a  reply,  far  above  Mitford's  history  in  power  and 
learning,  but  being  in  the  main  characteristic  almost  identical,  being  above 
all  tilings  a  book  of  vigorous  political  passion,  written  for  persons  who  care 
for  politics,  and  not,  as  almost  all  histories  of  antiquity  are  and  must  be, 
the  book  of  a  man  who  cares  for  scholarship  more  than  for  anything  else, 
written  mainly  if  not  exclusively,  for  scholars.  .  .  .  It  is  just  because  of  the 
analogy  between  the  controversies  of  that  time  and  those  of  our  times  that 
some  one  has  said, '  Classical  history  is  a  part  of  modern  history  ;  it  is  medi- 
aeval history  only  which  is  ancient.'" 

To  study  of  the  present  should  be  added  historical  study. 
What  help  will  it  afford    us    in    the    attempt   to    understand 


Introduction  1 1 


the  present  and  to  guide  its  forces?  The  answer  lies  in  the 
word  "reciprocity."  Men  and  ideas  assist  each  other.  If 
we  can  set  clearly  before  us  the  simple  forms  of  ancient 
social  problems,  we  may  discover  universal  motives  acting 
without  the  complications  of  modern  conditions.  If  we  watch 
the  mighty  current  of  social  movement  which  gathered  head 
thousands  of  years  ago  and  has  swept  into  its  awful  stream 
many  fancies,  theories,  and  ambitions,  we  shall  be  less  hasty 
and  impulsive  in  pressing  some  sudden  inspiration  and 
private  scheme  until  all  sides  have  been  considered.  We 
shall  be  preserved  from  the  illusion  of  taking  a  side  eddy  for 
the  direction  of  universal  movement.  Perhaps  we  shall  be 
more  hopeful  when  we  discover  the  might  of  what  makes  for 
general  welfare  and  the  weakness  of  efforts  based  on  selfish- 
ness. At  any  rate,  we  shall  come  to  the  consideration  of 
modern  problems  with  more  ample  materials  for  a  judgment, 
with  an  expanded  mental  horizon,  with  fewer  mean  and  pro- 
vincial prejudices,  with  more  worthy  conceptions  of  mankind. 

We  should  take  advantage  of  the  intense  and  natural  interest 
in  social  problems,  in  order  to  lead  on  to  laws,  principles, 
generalizations.  The  human  race  has  entered  the  royal  palace 
of  chemistry  by  the  kitchen  door.  People  studied  the  science 
of  atoms  to  discover  what  was  going  into  their  stomachs.  The 
mediaeval  philosophers  approached  political  economy  to  pro- 
cure rational  weapons  against  usurers.  "The  student  is  first 
attracted  to  concrete,  definite  problems  rather  than  to  general 
theories.  In  race  development  theories  grow  out  of  the  solv- 
ing of  problems"  (Professor  G.  E.  Vincent).1 

Many  who  read  this  book  are  teachers,  —  in  school,  home, 
church.  They  are  seeking  to  fit  youth  to  places  in  the  world. 
They  must  then  know  the  world.  Professor  Edward  R.  Shaw 
has  said  "that  the  child's  position  in  the  world  is  not  appre- 
ciated; that  he  is  suddenly  forced  into  the  midst  of  manifesta- 
tions of  varied  phenomena,  events  in  time,  all  at  once,  without 
any  key  that  will  enable  him  to  see  their  relations  to  each 
other,  or  his  relation  to  them.  The  failure  to  remember  that 
children  reason  only  from  the  things  they  know  is  the  cause 

1  The  Social  Mind  and  Education,  p.  142.  Cf.  Bohm-Bawerk,  Capital  and 
Interest,  pp.  4,  5,  13,  14. 


12  Social  Elements 

of  much  friction  in  education,  and  often  results  in  building  an 
insurmountable  wall  between  parent  and  child,  between  teacher 
and  child."  Unless  the  youth  knows  something  of  the  order 
and  institutions,  customs  and  laws,  of  the  great  world,  he  is 
soon  "lost"  in  the  motley  throng.  He  cannot  find  his  way. 
He  becomes  confused,  discouraged,  bewildered,  and  roams 
around  in  circles,  without  progress,  a  prey  to  chance  influ- 
ences. 

Our  age  is  restless  and  uneasy.  Multitudes  are  looking  for- 
ward with  anxiety  or  hope,  with  fear  or  joy,  with  anger  or 
yearning.  All  will  confess  to  a  division,  a  conflict,  a  want 
of  understanding.  Those  who  have  much  property  to  lose 
often  manifest  great  hostility  against  any  one  who  suggests 
any  disturbance  or  change  of  present  conditions.  This  is 
very  natural.  There  are  multitudes  of  others  who  regard 
the  present  condition  or  system  as  utterly  and  fundamentally 
unjust,  cruel,  and  worthy  of  execration.  Perhaps  it  is  because 
they  feel  the  pinch  of  want  and  disappointment;  perhaps 
because  they  look  out  upon  the  suffering  of  their  neighbors 
with  pity  and  regret;  perhaps  because  they  do  not  realize  the 
real  value  of  the  present  order  and  the  promise  it  holds  of 
gradual  betterment. 

Now,  for  all  these  persons  the  right  act  is  an  honest  effort 
to  understand  thoroughly  what  society  actually  is.  The  pres- 
ent order  is  all  we  have.  We  must  work  with  it  or  with  noth- 
ing. Until  the  new  comes  into  being  we  can  neither  eat  nor 
breathe  without  the  present  social  system. 

The  order  we  know  must  have  in  itself  the  germs  of  the 
coming  order,  since  life  cannot  arise  out  of  nothing;  and  it 
may  pay  well  to  look  carefully  and  closely  to  discover  the 
opening  buds  of  hope.  Perhaps  we  may  see  that  one  of  the 
best  things  about  the  present  system  is  that  it  has  articles  in 
its  constitution  permitting  amendments.  If  we  are  to  act 
together,  we  must  first  think  together.  Cooperation  in  the 
majestic  civic  task  waits  upon  agreement  about  ends  and 
means.  The  common  ground  for  radicals  and  conservatives, 
so  far  as  they  are  sane,  honest,  and  just,  is  a  study  of  life 
as  it  is  under  our  own  eyes. 


CHAPTER    II 
Nature  in  Relation  to  Social  Life 

"This  brute  matter  is  part  of  somewhat  not  brute.  It  is  that  the  sand 
floor  is  held  by  spheral  gravity,  and  bent  to  be  a  part  of  the  round  globe, 
under  the  optical  sky,  —  part  of  the  astonishing  astronomy,  and  existing,  at 
last,  to  moral  ends  and  from  moral  causes."  —  Emerson. 

"  '  So  careful  of  the  type? '  but  no, 

From  scarped  cliff  and  quarried  stone 
She  cries,  '  a  thousand  types  are  gone; 
I  care  for  nothing;  all  shall  go. 

" '  Thou  makest  thine  appeal  to  me, 
I  bring  to  life,  I  bring  to  death; 
The  spirit  does  but  mean  the  breath : 
I  know  no  more.'  " 

—  Tennyson,  In  Memoriam. 

I.  The  World  of  the  Astronomer.  —  It  is  well  for  us,  before 
we  become  absorbed  in  the  affairs  of  these  swarming  inhabi- 
tants of  earth,  to  spend  a  moment  with  star-gazers  and  celes- 
tial map-makers,  in  order  to  see  the  true  and  widest  relations 
of  things.  The  advance  of  astronomic  science  enables  us  to 
regard  this  terrestrial  ball  from  the  outside,  and  imagination 
helps  us  realize  that  our  society  is  simply  a  company  of  pas- 
sengers on  a  very  swift  vehicle,  which  moves  along  an  invisible 
track  through  the  infinite  spaces.  By  the  aid  of  an  artificial 
globe  and  the  evening  lamp  we  may  assist  our  fancy  and  wit- 
ness the  rapid  changes  of  day  and  night,  the  alternations  of 
winter  and  summer,  which  so  essentially  determine  the  arrange- 
ments of  associations  of  men  on  earth.  From  this  large, 
general  conception  we  may  come  down  to  the  divisions  and 
local  interests  of  nations,  cities,  and  families.      The   astro- 

«3 


14  Social  Elements 


nomical  point  of  view  helps  us  to  think  of  the  population 
of  our  globe  as  having  at  least  one  great  possession  in  com- 
mon, and  suggests  that  we  on  earth  really  belong  to  a  universe, 
and  that  there  may  be  similar  beings  in  other  worlds  who 
share  our  nature  and  who  may  come  to  be  partners  of  a  soci- 
ety much  more  extended  than  anything  known  of  imperial 
grandeur  in  earthly  history.  Sociology  does  not  presume  to 
take  such  flights  of  imagination;  it  finds  more  than  enough 
at  present  to  do  in  trying  to  understand  and  comprehend  the 
doings  and  nature  of  the  residents  of  this  rind  of  rock  and 
soil  crust  on  which  we  dwell. 

II.  The  Physical  Elements  and  their  Influence  on  Mankind. 
—  That  one  fountain  of  force  which  streams  up  through  all 
things  takes  three  general  forms,  —  chemical,  vital,  and  social. 
Not  an  ounce  of  this  force  is  ever  lost  or  destroyed.  It 
changes  its  direction  and  its  appearance  but  does  not  cease 
to  exist.  Heat  may  become  electricity,  or  light,  or  animal 
energy,  or  the  nervous  power  which  furnishes  the  basis  for 
thought  and  emotion  and  will,  but  it  is  not  annihilated.  The 
plant  takes  up  energy  into  its  tisses;  these  tissues  of  leaf  and 
grain  become^  the  source  of  the  warmth  and  vitality  of  ani- 
mals, the  flesh  of  animals  becomes  the  food  of  men,  and  re- 
appears as  the  power  of  armies  and  governments,  but  nothing 
is  lost. 

It  is  true  that  new  elements  enter  when  we  pass  by  insensible 
gradations  from  soils  to  plants,  and  from  plants  to  animals, 
and  again  from  animals  to  human  society.  These  new  factors 
are  the  distinguishing  marks  of  three  worlds,  physical,  vital, 
and  social.  But  there  is  no  break  from  base  to  summit.  The 
breath  of  the  singer  is  like  the  zephyr,  and  the  thoughts  of  the 
architect  or  teacher  depend  on  a  certain  consumption  of  fuel 
in  brain  and  stomach. 

The  geographer  regards  earth  not  as  an  on-looker,  but  as  a 
resident.  Human  society,  as  we  know  it,  is  not  a  cloud  of 
bodiless  ghosts,  flitting  from  star  to  star,  nor  a  congress  of 
ideas,  nor  a  collection  of  fancies  imitating  each  other.  Man- 
kind is  composed  of  complex  beings  who  must  have  solid 
ground  for  their  feet.  They  must  at  least  have  standing  room. 
They  must  have  places  to  lie  down  to  rest  and  sleep.     Their 


Nature  in  Relation  to  Soeial  Life  15 

necessities  are  not  met,  their  existence  is  not  assured,  without 
space  and  soil  for  houses,  gardens,  farms,  pastures,  palaces, 
warehouses,  and  temples.  What  is  going  on  among  the 
people  of  other  worlds  might  be  interesting,  but  it  does  not 
belong  to  our  subject.  We  are  earth-dwellers  at  present, 
though  we  feel  ourselves  to  be  potentially  cosmopolites,  citi- 
zens of  the  universe  at  large. 

Most  of  the  surface  of  this  planet  is  not  habitable:  the 
frozen  regions  at  the  poles  and  the  vast  portions  covered  by 
the  restless  ocean.  It  is  true  that  the  high  seas  are  the  indus- 
trial fields  of  sailors  and  fishermen,  the  sources  of  food  sup- 
plies, and  the  paths  of  commerce;  but  waves  are  not  the 
restful  home  of  domestic  and  industrial  life.  No  cities  rise 
on  the  wild  waste  of  waters,  nor  are  habitations  there  con- 
structed and  boundaries  of  empires  defined. 

The  land  is  the  solid  foundation  of  communities.  Its  soil 
is  the  product  of  corrosion  of  the  rocks  under  the  influence  of 
frost  and  flood,  of  chemical  action  with  the  help  of  vegetable 
elaboration.  When  the  geographer  has  laid  out  for  us  upon  his 
globe  the  outlines  of  continents,  the  range  of  mountains,  the 
valleys  of  rivers,  the  deserts  and  fertile  plains,  then  comes 
the  chemist  to  tell  us  of  the  elements  which  compose  the  soil, 
the  waters,  the  air;  and  the  physicist  declares  to  us  the  forces 
of  light,  heat,  electricity,  and  all  the  modes  of  motion  and  the 
instruments  of  force.  At  a  certain  point  the  chemist  dis- 
covers, or  artificially  combines,  the  atoms  of  matter  in  such 
complex  forms  that  the  mass  seems  almost  alive.  But  thus  far 
men  of  science  have  not  been  able  to  produce  living  beings 
out  of  inorganic  matter.  Up  to  this  date  the  man  of  science 
confesses  he  cannot  explain  the  passage  from  non-living  to 
living  matter. 

It  is  a  very  slight  transition  from  some  of  the  complex 
chemical  bodies  to  the  simple  jelly-like  creatures,  plant  or 
animal,  which  are  disclosed  to  us  under  the  microscope. 
Nature  is  able,  in  her  mysterious  laboratory,  in  the  bodies  of 
already  living  things,  to  transmute  atoms  into  living  creatures 
which  produce  their  kind  in  unending  procession. 

And  thus  our  sciences  and,  in  less  degree,  our  common 
knowledge,  bring  us  to  the  field  of  biology,  the  world  of  living 


1 6  Social  Elements 


beings,  plants,  and  animals.  This  vast  region  is  partitioned 
out  among  botanists  and  zoologists  in  order  that  the  study  may 
be  successfully  prosecuted  within  our  short  lives  and  with  our 
limited  powers. 

The  Elements  of  the  Physical  Enviro?unent.  —  Without 
attempting  to  do  the  work  of  the  geologist  and  instructor  in 
physiography  we  may  profitably  illustrate  the  social  interest  in 
the  physical  world,  and  may  notice  the  influence  on  human 
conduct  of  the  atmosphere,  the  waters,  and  the  solid  land. 
In  the  enveloping  atmosphere  about  the  earth  we  are  brought 
into  contact  with  air,  light,  heat,  electricity,  winds,  storms, 
and  moisture.  The  word  "  climate  "  suggests  the  more  per- 
manent conditions  of  the  atmosphere  as  contrasted  with  the 
shifting  and  momentary  changes. 

The  waters  of  the  earth  in  rivers,  lakes,  and  ocean  deter- 
mine many  elements  in  social  arrangements  and  ways  of 
existence. 

The  solid  land,  with  its  mountain  ranges,  its  valleys  and 
plains,  its  natural  highways,  must  decide  or  at  least  influence 
the  direction  of  social  action. 

All  these  factors  have  a  direct  power  over  our  lives  at  every 
moment  and  in  every  place.  They  also  affect  us  and  our  insti- 
tutions through  their  influence  on  animals  and  plants,  the  food 
and  servants  of  men. 

The  distribution  of  plants  and  animals,  the  effect  of  con- 
ditions of  atmosphere,  water,  and  land,  of  geologic  change, 
enters  into  our  thoughts  and  plans. 

We  pass  from  this  dry  catalogue  of  the  elements  of  the  ex- 
ternal world  to  consider  a  few  illustrations  of  the  various  ways 
in  which  they  mould,  affect,  and  determine  human  life. 

The  Influence  of  these  Physical  Elements  on  Man  :  on  Physi- 
cal Vigo?-,  Health,  and  Aptitude.  —  A  moderate  observation 
will  reveal  the  influence  of  temperature,  barometric  pressure, 
dark  days,  damp  weather  and  climate  in  general  upon  the 
body.  This  we  can  feel  from  hour  to  hour,  from  day  to  day, 
and  from  season  to  season.  We  are  different  persons  in  sum- 
mer and  in  winter.  Gray  skies  may  dampen  ardor,  and  close, 
warm  weather  unfit  us  for  the  best  service.  It  is  by  this  con- 
stant and  varied  experience  that  we  learn  to  appreciate  the 


Nature  in  Relation  to  Social  Life  iy 

effects  of  temperature,  moisture,  and  other  conditions  qn  an 
entire  people  subjected  to  these  agencies  generation  after 
generation. 

In  our  temperate  zone  we  have  a  great  variety  of  weather, 
and  we  notice  the  effect  of  changes  on  our  vitality.  The  same 
person  who  in  January  moved  with  brisk  step  and  easy  stride 
over  miles  of  pavement  comes  into  the  torrid  climate  of  July 
and  becomes  a  different  man ;  his  motions  are  slower,  he  seeks 
the  shady  side  of  the  street;  he  protects  himself  from  the  sun 
in  the  middle  of  the  day  as  if  he  were  a  resident  of  India. 
If  a  northern  man  goes  to  a  soft  and  warm  climate,  as  in  some 
parts  of  Mexico  and  South  America,  he  learns  that  the  habits 
of  the  natives  are  suitable  to  their  physical  surroundings,  and 
if  he  determines  to  work  with  the  same  energy  which  was 
natural  to  him  at  home,  he  soon  falls  a  victim  to  fever  or 
exhaustion. 

The  very  hardships  met  by  the  founders  of  New  England, 
their  contests  with  hunger,  cold,  and  stubborn,  thin  soil, 
helped  to  develop  in  those  who  survived  the  ordeal  a  physical 
and  spiritual  vigor,  which  is  still  a  store  of  available  energy 
for  the  conquest  of  an  entire  continent.  One  of  the  greatest 
men  of  this  fine  race  has  noted  this  fact  and  its  limitations: 
"Climate  has  much  to  do  with  this  melioration.  The  high- 
est civility  has  never  loved  the  hot  zones.  Wherever  snow 
falls,  there  is  usually  civil  freedom.  Where  the  banana 
grows,  the  animal  system  is  indolent  and  pampered  at  the 
cost  of  higher  qualities :  the  man  is  sensual  and  cruel.  But 
this  scale  is  not  invariable.  High  degrees  of  moral  sentiment 
control  the  unfavorable  influences  of  climate;  and  some  of 
our  grandest  examples  of  men  and  of  races  come  from  the 
equatorial  regions,  —  as  the  genius  of  Egypt,  of  India,  and 
of  Arabia"  (Emerson). 

Charles  Kingsley  believed  in  the  social  value  of  natural 
science,  and  no  doubt  would  confess  that  weather  is  a  factor 
in  our  lives.  But  it  is  very  evident  that  he  thought  the  doc- 
trine that  climate  determines  character  and  institutions  may 
be  overworked.  He  wrote  in  Yeast:  "But  what  is  a  descrip- 
tion without  a  sketch  of  the  weather?  In  these  Pantheist 
days  especially,  when  a  hero  or  heroine's  moral  state  must 
c 


1 8  Social  Elements 


entirely  depend  on  the  barometer,  and  authors  talk  as  if  Chris- 
tians were  cabbages,  and  a  man's  soul  as  well  as  his  lungs 
might  be  saved  by  sea  breezes  and  sunshine;  or  his  character 
developed  by  wearing  guano  in  his  shoes,  and  training  him- 
self against  a  south  wall  .  .  .  we  must  have  a  weather  descrip- 
tion. ..."  He  tells  us  how  Lancelot  made  a  soul-almanac  in 
this  style  :  "  Monday,  2i.st.  —  Wind  S.  W.,  bright  sun,  mercury 
at  30?,-  inches.  Felt  my  heart  expanded  towards  the  universe. 
Organs  of  veneration  and  benevolence  pleasingly  excited; 
and  gave  a  shilling  to  a  tramp." 

Illustrations  may  be  given  of  the  effects  of  the  physical  facts 
of  soil,  mines,  vegetation,  temperature,  and  other  physical 
conditions  on  occupations.  The  reports  of  the  state  geolo- 
gist are  rich  in  materials  for  such  a  study.  They  reveal  the 
material  resources  of  the  community  and  point  out  the  best 
direction  for  the  investment  of  capital  and  the  learning  of 
trades.  Every  commonwealth  should  have  in  its  employ  a 
corps  of  scientific  students  constantly  busy  with  the  investiga- 
tion of  the  nature  and  value  of  different  soils,  the  kind  of 
vegetation  which  will  flourish  best  in  the  given  conditions  of 
frost  and  heat,  of  rain  and  chemical  constituents  of  the  land. 
The  mineralogist  and  geologist  seek  all  possible  information 
about  coal  deposits,  hoards  of  natural  gas,  petroleum,  build- 
ing stone,  ores,  mineral  waters  of  healing  efficacy;  and  this 
knowledge,  published  in  books  and  popularized  through  daily 
papers  and  magazines  directs  the  energies  of  the  people  into 
the  most  profitable  channels.  Other  men  of  science  study  the 
plant  life  of  the  territory,  and  publish  information  about 
grasses  and  grains,  fruit  trees  and  berries,  and  the  conditions 
of  the  best  investment  of  money  and  labor. 

Men  planted  the  first  cities,  centres  of  enlightenment,  along 
rivers  and  near  the  coasts  of  seas.  Each  continent  and  each 
part  of  the  continents  may  have  peculiar  local  advantages 
in  the  production  of  the  good  things  of  life.  There  is  a 
field  for  oranges,  bananas,  olives,  and  lemons  in  the  warm 
south  country.  It  is  natural  that  the  inhabitants  of  those 
regions  should  turn  their  attention  to  the  growth  of  such 
fruits.  The  people  of  the  rocky  districts  of  Lake  Superior, 
with  the  lake  navigation  at  hand,  spend  their  energies  on  the 


Nature  in  Relation  to   Social  Life  ig 

development  of  copper  and  iron  mines.  The  ores  are  carried 
for  smelting  to  New  York,  and  Ohio,  and  Illinois,  nearer  to 
the  great  coal  beds  which  furnish  fuel  for  reducing  them 
to  ingots  and  transmuting  the  raw  material  into  the  rails  of 
steel,  into  machinery,  agricultural  implements,  beams  for  ware- 
houses, and  all  the  articles  wanted  by  civilized  man. 

As  in  the  village  each  artisan  cultivates  his  own  trade  and 
exchanges  his  products  for  those  of  others,  so  the  various  parts 
of  the  world  build  up  commerce  with  others  because  each  land 
can  contribute  most  of  a  certain  kind  of  goods  to  the  needs  of 
the  world.  Out  of  these  material  differences  of  soil,  climate, 
and  mineral  wealth  arise  the  social  bonds  which  knit  nation 
to  nation.  * 

The  arrangement  of  land  and  water,  of  plains  and  moun- 
tains, has  great  influence  on  governments  and  the  formation 
of  national  institutions.  In  the  early  history  of  our  country 
the  original  colonies  were  held  compactly  together,  in  great 
part,  by  the  natural  barrier  of  the  Alleghany  range  of  moun- 
tains and  the  dark  mass  of  forest.  It  is  possible  that  the  fate 
of  the  war  for  national  independence  depended  on  this  fact, 
that  natural  causes  pressed  the  feeble  people  together  into 
a  relatively  small  space  and  gave  them  a  sense  of  unity  and 
power  which  sustained  them  in  the  struggle. 

Who  can  overlook  the  tremendous  significance  of  the  shape 
of  our  continent  and  its  position  between  the  great  oceans? 
Vast  space  has  made  it  possible  to  build  up  a  great  nation, 
full  of  large  ideas,  conscious  of  possessing  indefinite  material 
resources.  The  existence  of  plenty  of  free  land,  to  be  had 
simply  for  the  taking  and  clearing,  suggested  to  the  hireling 
and  serf,  as  soon  as  he  touched  these  shores,  to  set  up  for  him- 
self. If  the  employer  did  not  like  to  give  him  good  wages, 
he  could  go  to  the  forest,  clear  a  patch  of  ground,  and  soon 
possess  a  homestead  in  his  own  right.  The  traits  of  indepen- 
dence thus  planted  have  become  national  characteristics  and 
made  permanent  despotisms  impossible. 

The  comparative  monotony  of  our  country,  its  wide  and 
level  plains  occupying  the  great  interior,  with  no  serious  sepa- 
rating ranges  of  mountains  after  the  first  pioneer  days  were 
over,  and  roads  were  constructed,  have  determined  the  simi- 


20  Social  Elements 


larity  of  habits  and  customs  which  travellers  and  observers, 
like  Mr.  Bryce,  have  called  to  our  attention. 

Our  material  resources  are  a  theme  of  perennial  interest  to 
our  orators  and  eulogists.  On  the  Fourth  of  July  they  are 
brought  to  our  complacent  attention  almost  as  if  we  had  some 
merit  in  their  creation.  Of  course  we  are  not  the  creators  of 
this  material,  and  credit  can  be  earned  only  by  a  wiser  use  than 
we  have  hitherto  known  how  to  make  of  it  all;  and  yet,  it  is 
worth  while  to  fill  our  imagination  with  these  pictures  of  the 
physical  greatness  of  our  land,  and  its  countless  riches,  for 
thus  the  idea  of  our  national  call  to  duty  becomes  more  im- 
pressive. 

A  wide  area  of  fertile  soil,  with  different  climatic  conditions 
means  that  we  can  have  varied  industries,  many  types  of  char- 
acter, large  conceptions  of  nationality,  splendid  schemes  of 
governmental  achievement.  The  unity  of  the  continent  im- 
presses upon  the  motley  population  a  sense  of  our  national 
oneness,  and  gives  a  material  symbol  for  patriotic  sentiment. 
The  vigorous  climate  inspires  energetic  action,  while  there 
are  places  suitable  for  weak  lungs,  and  other  localities  free 
from  malaria  for  those  who  cannot  acclimatize  themselves  in 
the  rich  valleys  where  the  wheat  ripens  in  prolific  soil  and  the 
corn  tassels  fly  the  flags  of  prosperity  and  also  warn  of  possible 
fevers. 

The  policy  of  national  peace  and  mediation  seems  our  des- 
tiny set  by  geographical  position.  We  are  too  far  away  from 
that  great  camp  of  soldiers  called  Europe  to  be  enticed  into 
their  fratricidal  strifes  and  bickerings.  It  is  dignified  for  us 
to  pursue  the  constructive  arts  of  civilization  undisturbed  by 
the  warlike  diplomacy  and  intrigue  of  continental  courts. 
Situated  between  two  mighty  oceans,  midway  between  the 
most  advanced  nations  of  Europe  and  the  slow  peoples  of 
Asia,  just  now  awakening  to  the  stir  of  modern  life,  we  have 
a  position  most  favorable  to  a  mediating  policy  dependent 
more  on  wisdom  in  council  than  on  force  of  arms  and  ships. 
No  foreign  nation  could  gain  anything  by  attacking  us,  and 
an  enemy  would  be  sure  to  lose  a  great  deal.  Nature  seems 
to  have  indicated  our  national  duty  in  most  distinct  language. 
Our  commercial  competition  will  be  severe  enough  to  tax  and 


Nature  in  Relation  to   Social  Life  21 

spur  our  inventive  genius  without  seeking  the  burdens  of  sense- 
less and  destructive  war.     So  geography  seems  to  teach. 

Man  is  a  Geological  Force.  — The  works  of  man,  especially 
those  constructed  by  associated  enterprise,  and  made  possible 
by  the  marshalling  of  many  persons  under  one  control,  have 
made  a  deep  and  abiding  mark  upon  the  face  of  the  physical 
world.     There  is  space  for  only  a  few  illustrations. 

Men  have  cut  down  and  burned  immense  tracts  of  forests 
and,  in  consequence,  the  climate  has  been  changed  over  vast 
areas.  The  average  rainfall  has  diminished,  and  formerly 
fertile  tracts  have  become  desert.  The  waters,  no  longer  re- 
strained by  the  roots,  leaves,  and  trunks  of  the  trees,  have 
rushed  down  into  the  valleys  in  floods  and  carried  destruction 
before  them.  Vast  systems  of  drainage  have  carried  off  the 
water  from  the  surface,  and  the  drained,  parched  land  has 
raised  the  temperature  of  the  district.  Agriculture  has  trans- 
formed bogs  and  swamps  into  fertile  fields  and  pasture  lands. 
If  man  has  sometimes  stripped  the  hills  and  laid  them  bare, 
he  has  in  other  instances  turned  desolation  into  bloom  and 
verdure  by  planting  trees  and  flowers.  The  Hollanders,  brave 
people,  few  in  numbers  but  with  mighty  hearts,  have  built  a 
wall  against  the  sea,  and  held  its  threatening  tides  at  bay  for 
centuries.  The  Mississippi  River  has  been  enclosed  within 
banks,  its  currents  tamed  by  jetties,  its  floods  controlled  by 
vast  walls,  and  the  method  seems  already  devised  to  check  its 
floods  at  their  source,  and  to  divert  them  into  the  desert  for 
purpose  of  irrigation.  The  immense  irrigating  canals  of  the 
southwest  have  driven  back  the  borders  of  the  "Great  Ameri- 
can Desert." 

By  excavating  the  Suez  canal  two  oceans  have  been  made 
practically  one,  and  the  long,  costly  journey  around  the  con- 
tinent of  Africa  has  been  shortened  by  many  weeks.  Man  is 
counted  among  the  geological  forces,  along  with  volcanoes, 
glaciers,  ocean  tides,  and  summer  storms.  His  cities  cover 
large  portions  of  the  land,  and  the  structures  of  man's  craft, 
dug  out  of  the  mountain  sides,  suggest  their  lofty  elevation. 
From  the  top  of  Milan  cathedral  one  may  look  over  the  plain 
to  see  the  white  scar  of  the  hills  whence  the  marble  walls  have 
come.     These  changes  may  not  be  so  large  in  bulk,  but  they 


22  Social  Elements 


are  so  full  of  evidence  of  human  intellect,  and  bear  so  directly 
on  human  happiness,  that  we  must  regard  them  as  full  of  sig- 
nificance. 

III.  The  Physical  Side  of  Human  Life,  as  a  Part  of  Nature. 
—  Man  is  much  more  than. an  animal;  but  before  we  can  do 
justice  to  his  social  life  we  must  for  a  time  consider  him  as 
if  he  were  a  direct  descendant  and  a  relation  of  the  humble 
living  creatures  which  occupy  the  earth  with  him.  We  may 
first  study  some  of  the  physical  elements  of  human  life  apart 
from  the  modifying  influence  of  his  superior  intellectual  quali- 
ties, which  distinguish  him  from  this  lower  world.  At  a  later 
stage  of  our  inquiries,  we  shall  see  how  the  merely  animal  fac- 
tors are  modified  by  forces  of  a  more  exalted  kind,  and  the 
conclusions  we  now  reach  must,  for  that  reason,  be  considered 
as  only  a  part  of  the  whole  truth. 

First  of  all  we  may  give  attention  to  the  "Law  of  Diminish- 
ing Returns."  The  human  intellect  and  will  are  powerful 
elements,  but  they  find  limits  in  nature.  By  improving  our 
methods  of  ploughing,  fertilizing,  seeding,  draining,  we  may 
increase  the  average  production  of  the  soil  in  a  very  great 
measure.  Larger  vegetables,  finer  fruits,  more  perfect  oxen, 
sheep  with  heavier  wool  and  with  more  meat  on  their  bones, 
are  the  achievements  of  improved  methods  in  agriculture  and 
related  industries.  Science  and  practical  arts  based  on  advanc- 
ing science  show  encouraging  results,  and  no  one  will  pretend 
to  prophesy  the  end.  There  will  be  no  end  of  improvement 
as  long  as  man  lives  on  the  earth,  and  he  will  be  pushed  to 
make  improvements  by  the  very  law  which  we  are  now  studying. 

Take  a  garden  under  your  own  observation  for  illustration 
of  this  law  of  diminishing  returns.  Last  year  it  was  not 
drained,  and  the  water  drowned  the  tender  plants  at  one  cor- 
ner, and  half  the  crop  was  lost.  This  year  a  drain  prevents 
that  loss.  Last  year  the  seed  was  defective,  and  this  year  a 
gain  is  made  by  examining  the  seeds  under  a  microscope  and 
by  testing  them  in  a  warm  room  in  the  winter  to  see  if  the 
germs  are  alive.  Here  is  another  source  of  profit.  Last  year 
one  part  of  the  soil  was  worn  out  and  yielded  little;  this  year 
fertilizing  material  has  been  applied  and  plant  food  furnished 
in  abundance,  and  here  is  another  cause  of  gain.     Last  year 


Nature  in  Relation  to  Social  Life  23 

the  weeds  were  permitted  to  suck  up  much  of  the  strength  of 
the  soil;  this  year  more  careful  tilling  has  kept  these  parasites 
out  and  given  the  vegetables  full  sway.  This  year  the  product 
is  more  than  doubled,  and  you  have  enough  for  two  families. 
Can  you  double  the  product  next  .year?  Probably  you  can 
increase  it  somewhat,  with  this  experience,  but  never  can  you 
double  it  again.  With  increase  of  labor  and  expenditure  on 
seed  and  fertilizers  the  product  will  increase  up  to  a  certain 
point,  but  even  the  increase  may  not  pay  for  the  greater  ex- 
penditure. The  returns  have  diminished  in  relation  to  the 
work  and  capital  expended  on  the  soil.  A  limit  is  reached 
at  last.  And  what  is  true  of  this  little  garden  is  true  of  the 
whole  country.  We  have  not  approached  the  limit  of  possible 
product  as  yet,  and  will  not  for  a  long  time.  But  many  a 
farmer  has  already  come  to  this  point  and  knows  it.  In  older 
countries  millions  of  persons  suffer  because  they  cannot,  even 
by  putting  forth  their  best  effort  and  wisdom,  compel  their 
soils  to  yield  any  more  food  for  man.  We  can  get  increased 
paying  returns  up  to  a  certain  point  for  our  outlay  on  land; 
then  comes  the  point  where  the  increased  returns  do  not  pay 
for  the  outlay. 

The  Doctrine  of  Malthus.  —  If  we  are  really  to  make  any 
progress  in  understanding  society,  we  must  be  aware  of  another 
tendency  in  nature,  this  time  in  the  animal  nature  of  mankind. 
Nature  without  is  niggardly;  human  nature  is  prolific.  The 
animal  appetites  tend  to  cover  the  earth  with  a  population 
larger  than  the  soil,  even  under  the  highest  cultivation,  can 
feed  and  otherwise  provide  with  necessaries.  It  is  true  that 
man  has  not  always  yielded  to  this  animal  disposition,  but  has 
held  it  in  rein  by  foresight  of  consequences,  as  merely  animal 
natures  could  not  do. 

But  in  some  parts  of  the  earth,  as  in  India,  we  see  this  ten- 
dency producing  its  most  terrible  consequences.  Millions  of 
human  beings  starve  to  death  because  they  multiply  beyond 
the  productive  power  of  the  soil,  even  when  carefully  and 
diligently  cultivated.  It  may  be  objected  that  the  cause  of 
famine  is  unjust  distribution  of  the  product.  But  the  best 
intelligence,  philanthropy,  and  statesmanship  have  thus  far 
failed  to  discover  a  better  way.     When  we  come  to  study  our 


24  Social  Elements 


industrial  system  and  economic  reforms,  we  shall  consider 
some  of  the  attempts  to  mitigate  these  causes  of  suffering  and 
to  remove  the  elements  of  human  injustice. 

We  do  not  require  to  travel  beyond  our  own  acquaintance 
to  discover  some  families  whose  numbers  are  too  large  for  the 
earning  capacity  of  the  parents.  Even  when  we  make  allow- 
ance for  inequitable  distribution  of  wealth,  all  competent 
persons  must  admit  that  the  average  product  would  not  supply 
the  wants  of  as  many  human  beings  as  would  exist  if  animal 
appetite  were  not  curbed  by  some  action  of  the  intelligence. 
Morality  demands  that  these  facts  should  be  known  and  under- 
stood. Social  progress  depends  on  such  knowledge  and  on 
suitable  action.  The  high  rate  of  mortality  among  young 
children  in  the  poor  quarters  of  cities  helps  to  keep  down  the 
excess  of  population,  and  the  effects  of  this  excess  are  seen  in 
the  idiotic  and  other  defectives  who  burden  our  charities  and 
fill  our  asylums  and  poor-houses  and  prisons. 

Of  course  population  cannot  actually  pass  the  limits  of  sub- 
sistence. There  will  always  be  some  kind  of  an  adjustment 
of  these  two  factors,  because  the  supply  of  food  is  the  actual 
condition  of  the  existence  of  human  beings.  But  this  adjust- 
ment is  now  secured  at  awful  cost  of  sickness,  starvation, 
suffering,  and  death.  And  that  is  in  fact  the  method  by  which 
the  balance  is  maintained,  as  every  physician  and  every  charity 
worker  knows.  If  all  the  children  lived  who  are  born,  there 
would  not  be  enough  to  provide  nourishment  for  them,  and 
so  nature  carries  them  off  by  starvation,  diseases,  and  by  all 
the  cruel  processes  of  competition  of  the  under-fed  and  en- 
feebled with  the  strong  and  competent.  The  unlimited  grati- 
fication of  animal  appetite,  without  regard  to  social  welfare, 
is  the  direct  cause  of  much  of  the  misery  which  gives  us  dis- 
tress, and  such  want  of  self-control  and  recklessness  is  there- 
fore brutal  and  cruel.1 

The  Law  of  Variation. — We  may  at  this  point  direct 
attention  to  the  fact  of  variation  in  the  natural  process  of 
inheritance.     The   causes  of   the   unlikeness  of    children  as 

1  The  view  in  the  text  is  the  author's  conviction.  Mr.  Henry  George,  in 
Progress  and  Poverty,  and  S.  Nitti,  La  Population,  may  be  consulted  for  a  dif- 
ferent doctrine. 


Nature  in  Relation  to  Social  Life  25 

compared  with  their  parents  and  with  all  other  persons  are 
numerous,  and  many  of  them  are  not  yet  clearly  known.  Each 
parent  is  unlike  all  other  persons,  and  the  offspring  take  some- 
thing from  both  father  and  mother.  Many  external  causes,  as 
food,  heat,  climate,  and  millions  of  forces  act  upon  the  for- 
mation of  human  beings  as  they  come  into  life.  The  result 
is  all  that  now  concerns  us:  variety  of  physical  and  mental 
characteristics.  Each  human  being  makes  a  new  start.  This 
unlikeness  of  individuals  must  be  kept  in  mind  as  we  proceed, 
for  we  shall  have  to  make  further  use  of  it  in  our  studies. 

Inheritance  of  Likeness. — But  this  tendency  to  variation  is 
crossed  by  another  natural  effect  of  inheritance, —  likeness  to 
parents  and  to  the  race.  The  two  physical  tendencies  work 
together,  side  by  side,  and  represent  apparent  opposites. 
Variation  makes  possible  both  progress  and  degeneration, 
while  direct  likeness  tends  to  preserve  the  type  as  it  is  on  the 
average.  One  tendency  gives  us  all  that  is  new,  the  other 
stereotypes  what  is  useful  until  something  better  is  struck  out. 

This  conservation  of  species  and  genus  by  inheritance  of 
qualities  may  be  observed  in  plants  and  in  animals.  It  is  the 
result  of  physical  causes  deep  as  the  beginnings  of  life,  even 
deep  as  the  chemical  laws  of  the  material  world.  It  gives  us 
a  sense  of  the  reliability  and  stability  of  nature,  helps  us  to 
count  on  what  has  been  accomplished.  But  it  is  not  absolute. 
It  is  not  exclusive.  The  actual  situation  of  the  race  is  deter- 
mined by  a  combination  of  two  tendencies,  one  toward  fixed 
outlines  and  forms  and  modes  of  conduct. 

The  Law  of  Conflict.  —  At  this  point  we  must  consider 
another  law  of  animal  life  which  will  pursue  us  to  the  end, — 
the  law  of  conflict.  In  business  we  are  familiar  with  this  law 
under  the  name  of  "competition."  Whenever  ten  persons 
apply  for  one  position,  it  is  manifest  that  some  one  must  be 
disappointed.  But  the  conflict  of  interests  began  long  before 
man  existed  on  earth,  and  it  is  observed  wherever  there  are 
organized  and  living  creatures. 

The  garden  will  give  abundant  illustrations  to  any  careful 
observer.  In  the  spring  the  soil  and  air  are  full  of  seeds  of 
all  kinds.  When  the  warm  sun  and  rain  have  caused  these 
various  seeds  to  germinate  and  break  through  the  crust,   it 


26  Social  Elements 


becomes  manifest  that  some  of  the  plants  must  perish.  Usu- 
ally we  kill  out  the  weeds,  "thin"  the  beets,  select  the  best 
plants,  destroy  the  beetles  and  worms,  starve  or  kill  the  birds 
which  injure  the  vegetables,  and  so  permit  the  best  vegetables 
to  enjoy  the  soil  and  grow  to  perfection.  But  sometimes  a 
garden  or  field  is  neglected,  and  then  we  have  nature  at  war 
in  truly  primitive  style.  The  field  of  the  sluggard  is  the 
battle-field  of  individual  plants  and  of  kinds  of  plants  for  the 
possession  of  the  space. 

On  a  summer  day  one  may  discover  the  conflict  going  for- 
ward in  the  animal  world.  Seated  in  the  quiet  woods  by  a 
brook  or  pond  the  tragic  history  of  millions  of  years  passes 
before  the  eye.  Down  there  in  the  warm  waters  the  larger 
fishes  are  darting  after  the  small  fry  and  devouring  them,  and 
this  furnishes  the  original  of  the  proverb  of  modern  business : 
"The  big  fishes  eat  up  the  little  fishes."  But  the  little  fishes 
are  not  innocent,  for  they  also  are  out  hunting  for  insects. 
Frequently  the  surface  is  broken  by  a  swift  leap  of  a  minnow 
eagerly  springing  after  its  prey.  Its  life  depends  on  con- 
suming other  life.  The  waters  are  teeming  with  cannibals. 
Up  there  on  a  tree  branch  sits  a  kingfisher,  waiting  for  his 
opportunity,  and  soon  he  swoops  down  to  the  shallows,  where 
a  fish  is  struggling  up  stream  exposed  to  the  clutch  of  his 
hereditary  enemy.  The  bird  of  prey  takes  meat  home  for 
her  brood.  The  hawk's  shadow  bodes  ill  to  the  dove  or  hen, 
and  chickens  seem  born  with  an  instinct  of  dread  which  has 
been  inherited  from  generations  of  fowls  who  had  reason  to 
be  afraid  of  that  peculiar  shadow. 

Examples  might  be  multiplied.  Conflict  is  the  universal 
state  of  plant  and  animal  existence.  Men  may  strive  to  be 
vegetarians,  but  the  microscope  shows  how  vain  the  attempt 
must  be  to  carry  out  the  principle  in  all  strictness.  In  the 
market-place  stand  a  thousand  men  waiting  for  employment. 
Every  one  of  them  wishes  to  serve  that  he  may  win  food  for 
himself  and  his  wife  and  children.  If  he  fails,  as  fail  he 
may,  there  will  be  more  hunger  and  cold. 

Advertise  for  a  clerk  in  a  great  newspaper,  and  at  eight 
o'clock  the  office  of  rendezvous  will  be  crowded  with  appli- 
cants.    Life  means  competition.     That  is  not  all  it  means, 


Nature  in  Relation  to   Social  Life  27 

as  we  shall  see.  Other  sides  of  existence  deserve  our  atten- 
tion. But  we  cannot  escape  from  this  fact.  Tears  and  pro- 
tests, passionate  outcries  against  the  injustice  of  it,  laws 
forbidding  it,  Utopian  schemes  to  bring  it  all  to  a  sudden 
end,  are  in  vain.  The  universe  is  made  on  this  principle. 
To  deny  it  is  simply  to  deceive  ourselves;  nature  will  have 
all  the  less  pity. 

This  struggle  exists  because  the  provisions  of  nature  are 
limited  and  the  demands  of  individuals  are  persistent.  If 
there  were  no  pressure  from  the  presence  of  competitors,  there 
would  still  be  a  necessity  for  toil  in  order  to  wring  from  soil 
and  sea  the  means  of  life. 

Natural  Selection.  —  Let  us  now  consider  the  issue  of  this 
conflict.  It  is  usually  said  the  consequence  of  the  struggle  for 
existence  is  the  "survival  of  the  fittest ";  but  the  phrase  needs 
explanation.  If  we  connect  with  this  phrase  the  idea  that 
the  "  fittest "  are  always  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  gentle, 
the  most  refined,  the  most  agreeable,  according  to  our  best 
ideals  of  what  is  desirable  in  character,  we  are  apt  to  find 
many  exceptions.     We  may  be  grievously  disappointed. 

What  is  true  may  be  summed  up  in  this  statement,  although 
any  brief  statement  must  be  incomplete :  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence issues  in  preserving  those  individuals,  families,  races, 
and  those  modes  of  thinking,  acting,  and  doing,  which  on 
the  whole  are  best  adapted  to  the  conditions  of  existence  in 
a  given  age  and  land. 

In  a  general  way  the  primitive  conditions  of  human  life 
demanded  physical  strength,  compact  family  life,  or  close 
organization  of  groups,  and  power  to  resist  attacks  with  force 
and  cunning.  In  some  situations  it  was  more  important  to  be 
sly  than  strong  and  aggressive.  Whatever  the  type  of  man 
that  was  needed,  those  would  live  and  have  successors  who 
had  these  qualities. 

The  process  was  rude  and  attended  with  immeasurable 
suffering,  although  the  earlier  men  were  not  as  sensitive  to 
pain  as  their  more  delicate  descendants.  Perhaps  the  pain 
of  the  process  may  have  been  exaggerated,  for  certainly  there 
are  still  among  us  rough  people  who  enjoy  nothing  better  than 
to  take  and  give  bloody  blows.     It  is  the  form  of  amusement 


28  Social  Elements 


most  agreeable  to  savages  in  all  countries,  and  the  savage  and 
tiger  element  is  not  entirely  bred  out  of  our  blood  even  in 
this  smiling  century. 

We  are  not  trying  to  defend  this  method  on  ethical  grounds. 
We  are  just  now  simply  trying  to  state  one  aspect  of  the  past 
and  of  the  present.  But  it  may  be  noted  at  once  that  this 
severe  discipline  has  helped  to  produce  fine  fruits,  the  man  of 
the  twentieth  century.  On  the  average  this  man  has  nothing 
to  complain  of  in  the  conduct  of  his  ancestors,  for  he  is  very 
well  satisfied  with  himself,  their  child. 

"The  homing  instinct  of  the  fur  seal,  concluding  its  long 
swim  of  three  thousand  miles  by  a  return  to  a  little  island 
hidden  in  the  arctic  fogs,  to  the  very  spot  from  which  it  was 
driven  by  the  ice  six  months  before,  excites  our  astonishment. 
But  this  power  is  not  an  illustration  of  animal  intelligence. 
The  homing  instinct  with  the  fur  seal  is  a  simple  necessity  of 
life.  Without  it  the  individual  would  be  lost  to  the  species. 
Only  those  which  have  the  instinct  to  perfection  can  return; 
only  those  who  return  can  leave  descendants.  As  to  the  others, 
the  rough  sea  tells  no  tales.  We  know  that  not  all  of  the  fur 
seals  who  set  forth  return.  To  those  who  do  return  the  horn  ins: 
instinct  has  proved  adequate.  And  this  it  must  always  be,  so 
long  as  the  race  exists,  for  general  inadequacy  would  mean 
extinction  of  the  species"  (President  D.  S.  Jordan). 

Even  a  brief  statement  of  natural  selection  would  be  incom- 
plete without  noticing  another  product  of  the  process,  the 
birth  of  love,  of  sympathy.  Leaving  out  of  account  the  para- 
bles of  attachment  in  the  flower  world,  we  may  discover  deep 
down  in  the  animal  world  the  early  beginnings  of  affection. 
Very  simple  animal  structures  show  a  drawing  together  in 
response  to  touch  and  sight  and  motion.  Much  higher  up, 
among  the  birds  and  mammals,  the  collections  of  stories  by 
naturalists  will  illustrate  characteristics  almost  human.  Mother 
birds  will  risk  their  own  lives  to  save  their  young.  Ants  will 
toil  unceasingly  for  the  nest.  Fierce  tigers  seem  to  be  as 
tender  to  their  own  young  as  gentle  domestic  creatures. 

And  these  affections  are  part  of  the  product  of  the  struggle 
for  existence.  Animals  which  did  not  develop  such  impulses 
would  neglect  their  offspring,  and  the  species  would  die  out. 


Nature  in  Relation  to  Social  Life  29 

Nature  has  long  been  offering  premiums  for  sympathy  as  well 
as  for  cunning  and  for  strength.  All  the  qualities  which  we 
have  come  to  value  originated  in  variation  in  the  upward 
direction,  and  were  preserved  by  the  struggle  for  existence 
helped  by  the  tendency  of  offspring  to  be  like  parents. 

Thus  far  we  have  considered  man  just  as  we  might  any  other 
animal.  Further  study  will  show  how  this  blind  and  uncon- 
scious process  has  come  to  a  stage  where  it  produces  and  is 
modified  by  higher  forces.  But  so  long  as  man  is  composed 
of  body  as  well  as  mind,  these  forces  will  still  be  part  of  his 
social  experience  and  cannot  be  left  out  of  account. 

IV.  Races.  —  One  of  the  facts  of  the  life  of  mankind  is 
the  distinction  of  races.  As  this  distinction  had  a  physical 
origin,  and  retains  physical  elements,  this  is  the  right  place 
to  consider  it.  The  social  problem  of  race  is  very  serious 
for  us  in  this  country.  There  is  the  southern  problem  of  the 
Negro  race,  the  California  problem  of  the  Mongolian,  the 
Hawaiian  question  of  the  native  people,  the  Cuban  diffi- 
culty of  mixed  races,  the  national  problem  of  the  assimilation 
of  immigrants  from  European  races. 

Perhaps  the  following  general  definition  of  the  Century 
Dictionary  will  be  sufficient  for  our  purpose  :  "A  great  division 
of  mankind  having  in  common  certain  distinguishing  physical 
peculiarities,  and  thus  a  comprehensive  class  appearing  to  be 
derived  from  a  distinct  primitive  source :  as,  the  Caucasian 
race,  the  Mongolian  race,  the  Negro  race." 

The  origin  and  causes  of  race  differences  are  only  dimly 
made  out.  Monuments  of  Egypt  and  remains  of  early  men 
preserved  for  our  study  prove  that  the  differences  now  known 
are  very  ancient.  It  seems  highly  probable  that  they  were 
caused  by  the  long  operation  of  the  physical  world  upon  the 
human  body,  and  by  modes  of  living  which  were  adopted  in 
order  to  meet  the  needs  of  various  conditions  of  life. 

The  eminent  ethnologist,  Quatrefages,  bases  his  divisions 
of  the  human  races  on  three  sets  of  characteristics, —  physical, 
intellectual,  and  spiritual  (moral  and  religious).  (a)  The 
physical  differences  are  partly  external,  as  the  color  of  the 
skin,  the  form  of  the  face,  the  height  and  proportions  of 
the    body;    (b)   anatomical,    varieties    of    size    and    form   of 


30  Social  Elements 


cranium,  skeleton,  jaws,  the  structure  of  brain  and  nerves; 
(c)  physiological,  the  modes  of  growth,  the  changes  of  adoles- 
cence, the  diseases  to  which  the  persons  are  liable,  and  other 
peculiarities  of  the  bodily  life.  The  marks  of  the  grade  and 
mode  of  intellectual  life  are  evidenced  by  the  kind  of  language 
used,  the  utensils,  weapons,  implements,  and  other  works  of 
art,  and  the  methods  of  support,  as  hunting,  fishing,  pastoral 
occupations,  agriculture,  and  trade.  Moral  and  religious  con- 
duct is  another  sign  of  the  characters  of  a  race. 

Our  immediate  social  interest  in  the  question  does  not 
depend  on  the  primary  origin  of  races,  but  rather  on  the  effect 
of  race  mingling  in  our  own  country.  The  questions  which 
thoughtful  citizens  are  asking  are  such  as  these :  What  must 
be  the  influence  of  a  large  volume  of  alien  elements  upon  our 
institutions  of  culture  and  religion  and  government?  What 
must  happen  if  a  multitude  of  laborers  come  among  us  with 
low  standards  of  life,  willing  to  eat  coarse  food,  wear  cheap 
clothing,  and  accept  very  low  pay?  And,  finally,  what  must 
be  the  result  in  respect  to  the  quality  of  the  stock  of  people 
which  will  at  last  inhabit  this  continent? 

Such  questions  compel  us  to  inquire  whether  the  lower  races 
can  be  improved,  or  whether  they  must  gradually  be  suppressed 
or  die  out  by  natural  processes  and  the  diseases  of  civilization. 
Or  may  it  be  possible  to  find  localities  better  adapted  to  some 
races  than  to  others,  so  that  the  population  may  be  varied  and 
yet  each  people  enjoy  the  home  best  adapted  to  its  physical 
peculiarities? 

V.  General  Considerations  as  to  the  Influence  of  Nature  on 
Society.  —  Nature  sets  a  limit  upon  social  action.  The  climate 
restricts  the  number  of  crops  man  can  raise  in  a  year.  The 
motions  of  the  earth  among  the  heavenly  bodies  set  up  certain 
barriers  of  seasons,  certain  rhythmic  effects  in  his  body  beyond 
man's  power  to  change.  The  products  of  mines  and  soils  deter- 
mine our  industries.  There  is  a  necessary  connection  between 
the  climate  or  soil  and  the  occupations  which  are  followed  in 
various  parts  of  the  earth.  The  warm  temperature  of  the  tropics 
creates  a  type  of  character  and  makes  impossible  the  habits 
natural  to  the  north  temperate  zone.  The  attempt  to  study  races, 
governments,  industries,  and  churches  without  reference  to  the 


Nature  in  Relation  to   Social  Life  31 

forces  of  nature  is  irrational.  There  is,  and  must  ever  be,  an 
interchange  between  man  and  his  physical  environment.  There 
is  even  a  certain  mystic  sympathy  between  the  physical  features 
of  the  earth  and  the  life  of  its  inhabitants.  "This  globe  is 
not,  as  we  are  informed,  a  perfect  sphere,  but  slightly  flattened 
at  the  poles;  and  in  like  manner  this  world  is  by  no  means  a 
perfect  world,  though  it  be  not  quite  so  easy,  as  in  the  other 
case,  to  say  where  or  why  it  is  not"  (J.  R.  Lowell). 

The  eminent  economist,  President  Francis  A.  Walker,  has 
counted  the  parsimony  of  nature  among  the  causes  of  poverty. 

"  Easily  chief  among  the  causes  of  poverty  is  the  hard  condition  of  the 
human  lot  as  by  nature  established.  The  prime  reason  why  bread  must  be 
so  dear,  and  flesh  and  blood  so  cheap,  is  that  the  ratio  of  exchange  between 
the  two  has  been  fixed  in  the  constitution  of  the  earth,  much  to  the  disad- 
vantage of  the  latter.  When  it  is  written  that  God  cursed  the  ground  and 
bade  it  be  unfruitful,  bringing  forth  briers  and  thorns,  that  man  should  only 
eat  his  bread  with  dripping  brow,  the  Scripture  does  not  exceed  the  truth 
of  the  unceasing  and  ever-painful  struggle  for  existence.  Taking  it  by  and 
large,  it  is  a  hard  and  cruel  world,  in  which  little  is  to  be  got  except  by 
toil  and  anguish ;  and  of  that  little  not  all  can  be  kept  by  any  degree  of 
care  and  pains.  There  are,  indeed,  regions  where  the  earth  spontaneously 
brings  forth  fruit  enough  for  a  small  population,  and  where  a  moderate 
effort  will  largely  increase  that  product,  while  the  climate  is  so  benign  that 
life  is  easily  protected  from  exposure.  But  these  are  not  the  regions  where 
man  ever  has,  or  seemingly  ever  ean,  become  a  noble  being;  and  even 
here,  in  the  midst  of  tropical  plenty,  the  serpent  stings,  the  tiger  prowls 
at  night  around  the  village,  the  earthquake  and  the  tornado  work  their 
frightful  mischief,  cholera  and  malaria  kill  their  millions,  while  every  few 
years  gaunt  famine  stalks  over  the  land,  leaving  it  cumbered  with  corpses. 

"...  The  socialist  is  simply  dishonest  when  he  charges  human  misery 
upon  society.  Society  has  done  vastly  more  to  relieve  misery  than  to  create 
it." 

We  gain  nothing  by  intoxicating  ourselves  with  golden 
dreams  about  an  earth  as  we  might  picture  it, —  rich,  fertile, 
responding  to  easy  touches.  We  do  not  live  in  such  a  world. 
Let  us  face  the  facts.  Some  genial  and  optimistic  minds  are 
promising  us  to  make  bread  directly  out  of  stones  by  chemical 
processes,  thus  delivering  us  from  the  uncertainties  and  toils 
of  agriculture  and  gardening.  But  their  prophecy  of  chemical 
pellets  of  nutritious  manufactured  substances,  even  if  it  were 
appetizing,  is  a  mere  fancy  as  yet,  and  no  sensible  man  will 


32  Social  Elements 


build  a  social  theory  on  a  guess,  no  matter  how  pleasant  it  j 

may  be. 

The  Epicurean  gods  are  represented  by  the  poet  Tennyson 
as  looking  down  from  serene  heights  careless  of  man's  fate:  i 

"  For  they  lie  beside  their  water,  and  the  bolts  are  hurled 
Far  below  them  in  the  valleys,  and  the  clouds  are  lightly  curl'd 

Round  their  golden  houses,  girdled  with  the  gleaming  world.  : 

When  they  smile  in  secret,  looking  over  wasted  lands, 
Blight  and  famine,  plague  and  earthquake,  roaring  deeps  and  fiery  sands, 
Clanging  fights,  and  flaming  towns,  and  sinking  ships,  and  praying  hands. 
But  they  smile,  they  find  a  music  centred  in  a  doleful  song 
Steaming  up,  a  lamentation  and  an  ancient  tale  of  wrong, 
Like  a  tale  of  little  meaning  tho'  the  words  are  strong; 
Chanted  from  an  ill-used  race  of  men  that  clear  the  soil." 

This  stern  discipline  of  nature  has  been  described  with 
terrible  and  realistic  force  by  J.  S.  Mill :  "  For  how  stands  the 
fact?  That  next  to  the  greatness  of  these  cosmic  forces,  the 
quality  which  most  forcibly  strikes  every  one  who  does  not 
avert  his  eyes  from  it,  is  their  perfect  and  absolute  reckless- 
ness. They  go  straight  to  their  end,  without  regarding  what 
or  whom  they  crush  on  the  road.   .   .   . 

"  In  sober  truth,  nearly  all  the  things  which  men  are  hanged 
or  imprisoned  for  doing  to  one  another,  are  nature's  every-day 
performances.  Killing,  the  most  criminal  act  recognized  by 
human  laws,  nature  does  once  to  every  being  that  lives,  and 
in  a  large  proportion  of  cases,  after  protracted  tortures  such 
as  only  the  greatest  monsters  whom  we  read  of  ever  purposely 
inflicted  on  their  living  fellow-creatures.  .  .  .  Nature 
impales  men,  breaks  them  as  if  on  the  wheel,  casts  them  to 
be  devoured  by  wild  beasts,  burns  them  to  death,  crushes  them 
with  stones  like  the  first  Christian  martyr,  starves  them  with 
hunger,  freezes  them  with  cold,  poisons  them  by  the  quick  or 
slow  venom  of  her  exhalations,  and  has  hundreds  of  other 
hideous  deaths  in  reserve,  such  as  the  ingenious  cruelty  of  a 
Nabis  or  a  Domitian  never  surpassed.  All  this  Nature  does 
with  the  most  supercilious  disregard  both  of  mercy  and  of 
justice,  emptying  her  shafts  upon  the  best  and  noblest  indiffer- 
ently with  the  meanest  and  worst;  upon  those  who  are  engaged 
in  the  highest  and  worthiest  enterprises,  and  often  as  the  direct 


Nature  in  Relation  to  Social  Life  33 

consequences  of   the   noblest  acts,   and   it  might  almost  be 
imagined  as  a  punishment  for  them." 

Over  against  these  extreme  representations  of  the  hatefulness 
of  nature  we  may  set  the  words  of  Shelley,  who  imports  into 
the  external  world  something  of  his  own  spirit. 

"  Earth,  ocean,  air,  beloved  brotherhood  ! 
If  our  great  Mother  has  imbued  my  soul 
With  aught  of  natural  piety  to  feci 
Your  love,  and  recompense  the  boon  with  mine; 
If  dewy  morn,  and  odorous  noon,  and  even, 
With  sunset  and  its  gorgeous  ministers, 
And  solemn  midnight's  tingling  silentness; 
If  Autumn's  sighs  in  the  sere  wood, 
And  Winter  robing  with  pure  snow  and  crowns, 
Of  stony  ice  the  gray  grass  and  bare  boughs  — 
If  Spring's  voluptuous  pantings  when  she  breathes 
Her  first  sweet  kisses  —  have  been  dear  to  me; 
If  no  bright  bird,  insect,  or  gentle  beast, 
I  consciously  have  injured,  but  still  loved 
And  cherished  these  my  kindred;   then  forgive 
This  boast,  beloved  brethren,  and  withdraw 
No  portion  of  your  wonted  favor  now." 

The  terrible  and  tragic  pictures  drawn  by  Mr.  Mill  are  not 
a  representation  of  the  whole  truth.  They  personify  nature, 
whereas  nature  is  impersonal.  Many  of  the  evils  described 
are  within  the  power  of  man  to  remove  or  greatly  mitigate  by 
his  science,  his  art,  his  intelligence  and  education.  All  the 
institutions  we  are  to  study  are  parts  of  man's  successful  striv- 
ing to  bring  the  merely  physical  world  under  control.  We 
have  no  reason  to  "blame  "  nature,  for  it  is  not  a  responsible 
being.  Our  business  is  to  domesticate  forces  and  matter 
by  improving  ourselves  and  our  institutions.  So  far  as  our 
miseries  are  due  to  our  own  ignorance,  injustice,  oppression, 
social  iniquity,  we  must  not  excuse  ourselves  by  laying  all  to 
the  account  of  nature,  but  resolutely  turn  against  organized 
human  error  or  selfishness.  Dr.  James  Martineau,  in  A  Study 
of  Religion,  has  shown  that  Mr.  Mill's  indictment  of  the  cruelty 
of  nature  is  at  some  points  an  exaggeration. 

It  is  not  in  place  here  to  answer  the  question  which  in- 
evitably arises,   What  is  the  meaning  of   this  war  of   nature 

D 


34  Social  Elements 


against  man?  If  we  mean  to  inquire  why  the  Divine  Being 
has  introduced  these  disorders,  miseries,  and  hardships  into 
the  world,  we  may  properly  hand  the  investigation  over  to 
theology  and  metaphysics;  it  is  not  possible  for  strict  science 
to  give  an  answer,  and  perhaps  the  theologians  may  have  some 
difficulty  with  a  problem  so  knotty  that  Job  and  Plato  struggled 
with  it,  as  Kant  and  Schopenhauer  have  done.  Robinson 
Crusoe's  man  Friday  asked,  "Why  did  not  God  kill  the  devil?  " 
and  Crusoe  floundered  in  that  deep  sea.  But  if  we  ask  what 
ise  men  can  make  of  hardship,  scarcity,  and  struggle,  we  are 
on  more  solid  ground.  Perhaps  in  dealing  with  present  reality 
and  duty  we  may  be  on  our  way  to  speculative  satisfaction. 
If  struggle  brings  out  the  higher  faculties  of  men,  compels 
them  to  be  alert,  inventive,  and  industrious;  if  the  hardships 
of  existence  educate  us  in  sympathy  and  finer  social  organiza- 
tion, in  the  progressive  victory  by  cooperation, —  then  we  can 
understand  at  least  a  little  way  the  meaning  and  use  of  pain 
and  trial.     It  is  in  society,  not  in  nature,  that  morality  emerges. 

Nature  as  our  Ally.  —  Over  against  the  tragic  and  one-sided 
statement  just  given,  we  may  draw  a  brighter  picture.  Nature 
not  only  limits  the  possibilities  of  human  action,  but  also 
assists  and  provides.  Out  of  the  material  world  of  unorgan- 
ized and  organized  matter  come  the  materials  and  forces  which 
sustain  us.  The  energy  which  is  stored  up  by  the  sun  rays  in 
plants  is  energy  of  higher  potency  in  animals;  and  man  eats 
both,  not  merely  to  supply  heat  and  strength,  but  to  make 
thought  possible. 

Nature  is  more  than  a  kitchen,  it  is  a  library  and  a  gallery. 
Its  scenes  furnish  the  memory  with  objects  of  beauty  and 
sublimity.  The  study  of  the  laws  of  the  outward  world  fill 
the  mind  with  suggestions  of  the  unity  and  harmony  of  all 
existence. 

Nature  once  entrusted  with  the  works  of  human  art  keeps 
them  manifest  in  visible  forms  from  age  to  age,  as  monuments, 
pictures,  fountains,  aqueducts.  It  is  true  that  disintegrating 
forces  are  at  work, —  frost  and  earthquake,  wind  and  acid, — 
but  man  can  calculate  the  probabilities  and  balance  one  ten- 
dency against  another  and  compel  the  matter  of  earth  to  keep 
his  message  and  his  story  through  thousands  of  years. 


Nature  in  Relation  to  Social  Life  35 

Professor  O.  T.  Mason  gives  illustrations  of  four  different 
ways  in  which  nature  ministers  to  man's  life: 

"  And  first  we  cannot  help  seeing  that  the  environment  is  the  provider 
of  all  raw  materials.  .  .  .  An  Eskimo  collection  is  white;  the  same  ideas 
are  expressed  by  the  Haidas  south  of  them  in  jet  black.  The  art  of  the 
British  Columbian  is  red,  of  Oregon  and  Californian  yellow,  of  the  Pueblos 
ecru,  of  Mexico  gray.  All  this  is  plain  enough  when  you  know  the  color 
of  walrus  ivory,  of  slate,  and  mountain-goat  horn,  of  eedar,  of  grasses,  and 
spruce  roots,  of  fire  clay  when  baked,  and  of  volcanic  building  stones. 
People  express  themselves  in  the  material  at  hand.  The  Egyptian  was 
furnished  with  limestone  ami  sienite,  so  he  hammered  away  at  that.  His 
ideas  could  mount  no  higher  than  the  material.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
Creek  was  provided  by  environment  with  the  whitest,  finest,  and  thiekest 
quarries  of  marble  on  earth.  It  was  expected  of  him  that  he  should  give 
the  highest  expression  of  the  aesthetic  faculty  in  sculpture  and  architecture, 
though  his  pottery  was  somewhat  inferior.  When  the  whole  world  is 
brought  into  one  environment  by  the  art  of  transportation,  then  other 
lands  have  hope  to  imbibe  some  of  the  genius  engendered  and  fostered  by 
the  quarries  of  Pentelicus. 

"  Nature  or  environment  appears  to  us,  secondly,  in  the  light  of  a  pur- 
veyor of  force.  At  first  our  race  had  only  the  force  of  its  own  frail  but 
versatile  bodies  to  depend  upon,  yet  men  will  never  cease  to  marvel  at 
this  mechanism  as  an  economic  device  for  storing  and  utilizing  power. 
Whether  we  regard  a  machine  in  the  light  of  saving  fuel,  of  speed,  of  abil- 
ity to  change  rectilinear  motion  readily  into  that  of  any  curve  or  succession 
of  curves,  the  body  of  men  will  ever  remain  for  inventors  to  wonder  at  and 
imitate.  Long  ago  backs  and  hands  and  feet  were  wearied  with  ever- 
increasing  burdens,  and  so  the  dog,  the  reindeer,  the  horse,  the  ass,  the 
cow,  the  camel,  the  llama,  the  elephant,  and  even  the  sheep,  were  handed 
over  in  innumerable  packs  and  herds  to  give  additional  power  to  industry. 
These  creatures  not  only  fed  and  clothed  men,  they  made  men's  legs 
longer,  their  backs  stronger,  their  hands  more  skilful.  Then  came  the 
wind  to  blow  upon  the  mat,  the  sail,  the  mill,  and  the  water,  moving  in  its 
natural  currents  and  then  in  artificial  channels,  to  turn  the  wheels  of  indus- 
trialism. How  bountiful  has  nature  been  in  the  supply  of  force  !  Who 
ever  dreamed  of  exhausting  it?  How  many  ships  upon  the  sea  would  it 
take  to  use  up  all  the  winds  that  blow,  and  how  many  turbine  wheels 
would  it  require  to  take  up  and  transform  into  useful  arts  the  force  of  all 
waterfalls  ?  .  .  . 

"  In  the  third  place,  the  environment  manifests  itself  as  the  teacher  of 
industries.  .  .  .  There  were  cave-dwellers  before  there  were  men;  spiders, 
mud  wasps,  beavers,  and  birds  spun  and  worked  in  clay  and  cut  down  trees 
and  made  soft  beds  for  their  young  long  ago.  Plants  reared  vessels,  and 
mollusks  produced  dishes  that  even  now  are  the  patterns  of  the  most  skil- 
ful potters.  There  were  hammers,  gimlets,  pins,  needles,  saws,  baskets,  and 
sandpaper  at  hand  when  the  human  artisan  first  became  an  apprentice. 


36  Social  Elements 


"  Lastly,  the  environment  itself  is  capable  of  unlimited  education  and 
improvement  in  relation  to  the  commonest  wants  of  life  and  our  ways  of 
satisfying  them.  ...  An  industrious  and  wise  farmer  settles  upon  a  piece 
of  land.  Soon  you  behold  remunerative  crops  replacing  the  forest  and  the 
waste.  The  man  is  enriched;  he  then  enriches  the  land,  and  by  a  kind  of 
mutual  admiration  they  two  grow  fat  together.  When  a  progressive  race 
has  settled  down  in  a  part  of  the  earth  not  too  icy,  not  too  torrid,  not  dis- 
couragingly  luxuriant,  not  absolutely  a  desert,  the  same  has  been  true. 
The  wild  and  cooperatively  relentless  wolves  have  become  faithful  dogs. 
The  capability  was  slumbering  there.  The  feeble  grasses  are  transformed 
simply  by  giving  the  best  a  chance  into  prolific  grains." 

It  is  in  the  art  and  profession  of  agriculture  that  man  comes 
face  to  face  with  nature  in  all  its  varying  moods  of  glory, 
beauty,  and  terror.  The  farmer  is  dealing  at  first  hand  with 
the  physical  environment,  and  shares  with  miners  the  honor 
and  toil  of  extracting  from  the  earth  the  raw  materials  of  all 
social  arts  and  commodities.  Nature  studies  should  be  of 
highest  interest  to  these  primary  producers.  "The  plough- 
man who  is  also  a  naturalist  runs  his  furrow  through  the  most 
interesting  museum  in  the  world"   (Lowell). 

The  dependence  of  society  upon  nature  is,  perhaps,  rela- 
tively less  than  it  was  in  ancient  ages.  It  is  easy  to  understand 
that  savage  people  who  live  from  hand  to  mouth,  without  stores 
of  food,  without  roads  and  means  of  communication  and  trans- 
portation, cut  off  from  distant  communities  by  dark,  dense 
forests  and  high  mountains,  isolated  by  feuds  and  hatred,  must 
often  utterly  perish  in  case  of  a  local  drought  and  famine. 

"  In  the  days  of  Turgot,  the  French  minister  of  finance  under  Louis  XVI, 
there  were  at  times  in  certain  departments  of  France  such  abundant  har- 
vests that  wheat  was  almost  unmarketable,  while  in  other  and  not  far 
distant  sections  of  the  country  there  was  such  a  lack  of  food  that  the  in- 
habitants perished  of  hunger,  and  yet,  through  the  absence  of  facilities  for 
transportation  and  communication  of  intelligence,  the  influence  of  bad 
laws,  and  the  moral  inertia  of  the  people,  there  was  no  equalization  of  con- 
dition. This  experience  of  France  in  the  last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth 
century  has  repeated  itself  at  the  present  day  in  China.  General  Wilson, 
in  his  Study  of  China  (1887),  states  that  over  ten  million  of  people  died 
from  starvation  about  ten  years  ago  in  the  provinces  of  Shansi  and  Shensi 
alone,  while  abundance  and  plenty  were  prevailing  in  other  parts  of  the 
country.  Fvery  effort  was  made  to  send  food  into  the  stricken  regions,  but 
owing  to  the  entire  absence  of  river  and  canal  navigation  as  well  as  of 
railroads,  few  of  the  suffering  multitude  could  be  reached."  —  D.  A.  Wells. 


Nature  in  Relation  to  Social  Life  37 


In  the  pioneer  days  of  our  great  West,  as  the  aged  settlers 
still  repeat,  our  forefathers  suffered  from  the  absence  of  salt, 
condiments,  and  medicines,  because  these  articles  could  not 
be  secured  without  a  journey  to  New  York,  which  cost  many 
weary  weeks  and  intense  hardships.  The  inventions  of  our 
age  enable  us  to  become  independent  of  the  direct  gifts  of 
nature,  to  rely  upon  stores  of  goods,  and  to  substitute  one 
article  for  another  in  times  of  scarcity.  Irrigation  makes  a 
plain  independent  of  rains.  Electric  lighting  turns  night  into 
day.  New  modes  of  curing  and  preserving  fruits  and  meats 
give  more  varied  diet  at  all  seasons,  and  railroads  serve  the 
same  end  by  carrying  the  vegetables  of  south  to  north  and  of 
west  to  east. 

Knowledge  and  art  bring  freedom  from  the  limitations  of 
nature,  and  make  of  speechless  things  and  forces  the  drudges 
of  mankind.  This  is  the  meaning  of  the  story  of  Prospero 
and  his  magic,  in  the  pages  of  Shakespeare.  The  spirit  Ariel 
and  the  magic  wand  represent  modern  science.  Winds  and 
waves  are  servants  of  the  prince  who  reads  the  secrets  of  Nature 
and  learns  how  to  command  her  at  his  will.  Caliban,  the 
savage,  the  brute,  is  the  unwilling  instrument  of  the  intellect 
of  the  man  who  knows. 

Man's  civilization  is  conditioned  by  nature,  but  climate 
and  soil  are  by  no  means  the  only  factors,  not  the  most  im- 
portant. Think  of  the  conquest  of  dunes  and  oceans  by 
Danes  and  Hollanders.  "The  Mississippi  has  always  been 
the  same  lordly  stream  as  to-day,  but  so  long  as  only  red 
men  inhabited  its  banks,  it  was  not  a  commercial  highway  " 
(H.  von  Treitschke). 

We  find  the  modern  Greeks  in  very  much  the  same  outward 
conditions  as  those  which  affected  the  ancient  Greeks;  but 
how  different  the  people!  In  the  same  climate,  in  view  of 
the  same  mountains,  tilling  the  same  soil,  eating  the  same 
food,  in  Africa,  in  the  islands  of  the  Pacific,  and  in  India, 
we  know  that  many  races  and  kinds  of  men  reside,  century 
after  century,  side  by  side. 

This  mastery  and  freedom  of  man  are  only  relative.  There 
is  a  limit  even  to  genius  and  to  science.  Society  must  ever 
rest,   in  the  last  analysis,  on  mother  earth.     The  land,  the 


38  Social  Elements 


mines,  the  forests,  the  sea,  must  ever  bound  his  pretensions 
and  supply  his  means.  The  physical  world  will  ever  have  the 
last  word.  Decrees  forbidding  comets  to  approach  the  earth 
are  dead  letters.  Engineering  plans  based  on  the  hope  of 
water  flowing  up  hill  must  come  to  grief. 

VI.  Relation  of  Nature  Studies  to  the  Study  of  Society.  — 
Systematic  knowledge  of  soils,  minerals,  stones,  as  presented 
in  mineralogy,  geology,  and  chemistry,  helps  us  to  understand 
the  means  of  human  welfare,  the  boundaries  and  limits  of 
organized  effort  to  provide  for  man's  wants.  Systematic  study 
of  plants  enables  man  to  discover  food  supplies,  materials  for 
garments  and  shelter,  dyes,  medicines,  and  hints  of  aesthetic 
forms,  and  thus  botany  finds  its  place  and  rank  among  the 
"humanities."  Systematic  study  of  animals,  in  anatomy, 
physiology,  zoology,  enables  men  to  discover  the  best  means 
of  securing  animal  food,  skins  and  wool,  silk  for  clothing  and 
ornament,  and  to  guard  health  against  countless  foes.  Physics 
reveals  the  laws  of  motion,  of  heat,  light,  electricity,  and 
actinism,  and  assists  the  mind  to  grasp  the  order  and  unity  of 
the  world.  It  is  in  seeking  the  human  uses  of  the  various 
kinds  of  knowledge,  in  relation  to  social  ends,  that  we  dis- 
cover their  value,  their  beauty,  their  connection  with  each 
other,  and  their  place  in  the  school.  To  use  a  current  phrase, 
our  nature  studies  are  correlated  in  the  one  inclusive  study  of 
society,  its  nature  and  its  needs.  As  the  spokes  of  a  wheel 
are  "  correlated  "  by  their  insertion  in  the  hub  and  the  felloes 
composing  the  rim,  so  each  nature  study  finds  its  rank  and 
position  by  its  relation  to  the  demands  of  the  community,  that 
is,  the  common  life  of  our  kind. 

And  these  human  needs  are  not  merely  animal  wants,  as  of 
nutrition,  comfort,  and  protection,  but  also  the  intellectual 
desires  for  orderly  knowledge  and  the  aesthetic  demands  for 
beauty. 

Natural  Forces  are  not  Social  Forces.  —  Important  as  are 
the  services  of  the  physical  world  about  us,  and  indispensable 
to  every  act  and  movement  of  society,  yet  the  external  environ- 
ment is  not  human,  is  not  a  social  force.  It  is  only  as  man 
thinks  nature,  as  his  mind  responds  to  its  power  and  mani- 
festations, that  nature  enters  into  the  very  current  of  social 


Nature  in  Relation   to   Social  Life  39 

causes.  "The  geographical  environment  may  limit  or  hinder 
social  life,  but  it  cannot  be  a  force  or  moment  in  that  life" 
(Baldwin).  It  may  be  more  correct  to  say  that  nature  does 
more  than  limit  and  hinder,  it  offers  actual  and  positive  aid 
to  man  and  bears  his  burdens  for  him.  But  genuine  social 
forces  are  mental  and  not  physical. 

Wind  and  wave,  stream  and  tide,  soil  and  climate,  plant 
and  animal,  are  not  social  forces,  but  human  thoughts  about 
these  realities  are  among  the  social  forces.  Knowledge  and 
superstition,  science  and  belief,  accurate  information  and 
gross  prejudice  in  relation  to  the  external  world,  are  to  be 
counted  among  the  social  causes. 

The  Sources  of  our  Interest  in  Nature.  — Our  interest  is  utili- 
tarian in  the  narrow  sense.  A  gentleman  of  economic  habits 
declared  that  he  preferred  to  take  care  of  his  own  furnace, 
because  he  did  not  feel  comfortable  to  have  an  ignorant  man 
building  fires  under  his  parlor  and  bed.  All  men,  working  as 
individuals  or  in  companies,  must  know  what  forces  are  at 
work  under  them  and  around  them. 

Our  interest  is  intellectual,  and  knowledge  is  itself  useful, 
since  it  gratifies  the  hunger  for  truth.  Granted  that  nature 
study  may  not  give  us  more  bread  or  softer  beds  or  more  pleas- 
ant houses,  still  one  craving  of  our  minds  would  be  met  by 
the  science  of  things. 

There  is  aesthetic  enjoyment  in  the  contemplation  of  nature. 
Beauty  is  "  in  the  delicate  forest  flower,  with  scented  breath 
and  look  so  like  a  smile."  The  clouds  of  evening  spread  the 
sky  with  the  glories  of  a  panorama  impossible  to  be  produced 
by  any  save  the  Divine  painter.  When  once  the  external 
world  has  been  interpreted  to  us  by  poets  and  artists,  the 
most  common  objects  are  invested  with  a  charm  which 
entrances  us  and  enriches  life. 

The  study  of  nature  has  an  interest  because  it  comes  to  be 
a  common  pursuit  of  members  of  society  and  binds  them  in 
the  bonds  of  higher  ends.  It  subdues  selfishness  and  enlarges 
sympathy  for  all  that  breathes. 

While  we  no  longer  pretend,  as  did  earlier  students,  to 
determine  the  exact  thought  of  Providence  for  every  insect 
and  shape  of  stone  and  arrangement  of  nerve-cells,  yet  nature, 


40  Social  Elements 


in  its  majestic  movements,  its  orderly  progress,  its  suggestions 
of  infinite  power  and  thought,  never  ceases  to  be  a  revelation 
to  the  human  spirit. 

Alexander  von  Humboldt  closes  one  section  of  his  great 
book,   Cosmos,  with  this  passage: 

"  From  the  remotest  nebulae  and  from  the  revolving  double 
stars,  we  have  descended  to  the  minutest  organisms  of  animal 
creation,  whether  manifested  in  the  depths  of  ocean  or  on  the 
surface  of  our  globe,  and  to  the  delicate  vegetable  germs  which 
clothe  the  naked  declivity  of  the  ice-crowned  mountain  sum- 
mit, and  here  we  have  been  able  to  arrange  these  phenomena 
according  to  partially  known  laws;  but  other  laws  of  a  more 
mysterious  nature  rule  the  higher  spheres  of  the  organic  world, 
in  which  is  comprised  the  human  species  in  all  its  varied  con- 
formation, its  creative  intellectual  power,  and  the  languages 
to  which  it  has  given  existence.  A  physical  delineation  of 
nature  terminates  at  the  point  where. the  sphere  of  intellect 
begins,  and  a  new  world  of  mind  is  opened  to  our  view." 


PART    II 

THE    SOCIAL   PERSON 


-•<>•- 


CHAPTER    III 
The  Social  Member:  the  Person 

"There  is  no  prosperity,  trade,  art,  city,  or  great  material  wealth  of  any 
kind,  but,  if  you  trace  it  home,  you  will  find  it  rooted  in  a  thought  of  some 
individual  man."  —  Emerson. 

"  What  is  thy  art?  to  be  good.  And  how  is  this  accomplished  well  ex- 
cept by  general  principles,  some  about  the  nature  of  the  universe,  and 
others  about  the  proper  constititution  of  man? 

"  Every  man  is  worth  just  so  much  as  the  things  are  worth  about  which 
he  busies  himself." 

"  Whatever  any  one  does  or  says,  I  must  be  good,  just  as  if  gold,  or 
emerald,  or  purple  were  always  saying  this,  Whatever  any  one  does  or  says, 
I  must  be  emerald  and  keep  my  color." —  Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus, 
Meditations. 

"Turn,  Fortune,  turn  thy  wheel  with  smile  or  frown; 
With  that  wild  wheel  we  go  not  up  or  down ; 
Our  hoard  is  little,  but  our  hearts  are  great. 
Smile  and  we  smile,  the  lords  of  many  lands; 
Frown  and  we  smile,  the  lords  of  our  own  hands; 
For  man  is  man  and  master  of  his  fate." 

—  Tennyson. 

Society  is  composed  of  persons,  of  human  beings.  We 
shall  not  stop  to  discuss  the  question  whether  there  are  animal 
societies,  whether  flocks,  herds,  beehives,  ant-hills,  and  com- 
panies of  cunning  crows  may  properly  be  called  societies. 
We  admit  that  there  are  many  points  of  agreement,  but  there 
are  also  vital  differences,  which  will  appear  more  clearly  as  we 

41 


42  Social  Elements 


develop  the  conception  of  human  society  and  the  peculiar 
marks  of  human  community  life.  At  present  notice  is  served 
that  we  are  studying  mankind. 

Since  we  are  to  study  human  institutions,  we  certainly  may 
well  begin  with  an  inspection  of  the  being  who  makes  society. 
We  may  take  at  random  any  one  out  of  the  millions  of  per- 
sons who  live  in  civilized  lands,  and  by  study  of  his  mode  of 
being  we  are  at  once  in  contact  with  the  facts  of  society.  The 
nature  of  man  helps  us  to  explain  the  community.  What  is 
the  meaning  and  purpose  of  schools  and  states,  of  factories 
and  banks?  The  answer  to  these  questions  must  be  secured 
by  asking  particular  men  what  they  mean  and  what  they  desire. 
The  study  of  humanity  in  general  is  possible  only  by  taking 
the  particular  specimens  and  reasoning  from  these.  By  care- 
fully following  the  order  of  development  of  persons,  we  have 
some  hint  of  the  development  of  mankind  in  the  past.  We 
speak  of  the  "childhood  of  the  world,"  and  the  phrase  has 
meaning  when  we  compare  some  of  the  traits  of  children  with 
those  of  savage  peoples. 

Whether  we  wish  to  deal  with  a  mob  to  understand  it,  or 
with  a  city  ward  to  elevate  its  life,  we  must  take  with  us  some 
clear  notion  of   the  way  in  which  outward  conditions  affect  • 
thought  and  sentiment,  and  the  process  by  which  beliefs  and  • 
feelings  are  communicated  from  person  to  person. 

The  world  in  which  we  live  is  composed  of  things  and  of 
persons,  of  physical  objects  and  of  spiritual  beings.  Each 
man  carries  in  himself  the  elements  of  both  worlds,  and  is 
himself  an  illustration  of  the  unity  of  this  world  in  its  two 
aspects.  Man  is  both  body  and  soul,  and  these  are  so  inti- 
mately bound  up  in  him  that  it  is  impossible  to  separate  them, 
and  each  profoundly  affects  the  other.  A  man  can  know 
natural  objects,  as  trees  and  flesh,  because  he  knows  his  own 
body.  He  can  enter  into  the  thought  of  other  intelligent  per- 
sons because  he  has  thoughts  of  his  own. 

/.  The  Physical  Man.  — Social  studies  and  common  obser- 
vation make  us  more  or  less  familiar  with  the  structure  and 
activity  of  the  body.  It  is  at  this  point  that  our  scheme  of 
study  might  insert  a  treatise  on  anatomy  and  physiology.  We 
must  take  it  for  granted  that  those  subjects  have  already  been 


The  Social  Member:  the  Person  43 


considered;  that  the  reader  is  familiar  with  the  cells,  the  tis- 
sues of  bone  muscles  and  nerve,  the  organs  of  mastication 
digestion  respiration  circulation  and  nervous  energy.  It  is 
to  the  works  on  physiology  that  we  must  go  for  our  knowledge 
of  the  uses  or  functions  of  the  different  parts  of  the  body. 

In  the  physical  history  of  each  person  there  are  indications 
of  the  social  origin  and  dependence  of  men.  There  are  the 
familiar  facts  of  differences  of  sex  which  condition  the  family, 
and  have  such  profound  influence  on  social  customs,  laws,  and 
sentiments.  Marriage  itself  would  not  exist,  would  have  no 
meaning,  without  the  powerful  incentives  which  arise  out  of 
the  physical  nature  of  human  beings.  The  merely  instinctive 
passions  are  brought  under  rational  control,  are  hidden  by 
modesty,  are  transfigured  by  poetry  and  religion,  are  brought 
into  subservience  to  the  highest  interests  of  the  race. 

"  Flesh  and  bone  and  nerve  that  make 
The  poorest,  coarsest  human  hand; 
Are  objects  worthy  to  be  scanned 
A  whole  life  long  for  their  sole  sake."  —  Browning. 

All  social  study  must  begin  with  a  clear  understanding  of  the 
structure  and  functions  of  the  body.  Many  of  the  social  prob- 
lems are  directly  problems  of  health.  This  is  a  fundamental 
social  interest.  Health  is  a  condition  of  all  higher  activities. 
Disease  reduces  vitality  and  strength,  diminishes  the  amount 
of  force  available  for  social  work,  disturbs  the  order  and  peace 
of  social  relations,  endangers  the  very  existence  of  the  com- 
munity. The  laws  of  health  become  laws  of  duty  binding  on 
the  conscience,  and  at  last  find  themselves  enacted  into  de- 
crees of  legislatures  and  ordinances  of  councils  and  boards 
of  health. 

The  bodily  structure  and  functions  determine  those  appe- 
tites which  play  so  important  a  part  in  human  history  —  hunger 
and  love.  It  seems  to  be  the  object  .of  nature  to  construct 
men  so  that  the  race  shall  be  maintained  and  continued  through 
the  active  demands  of  these  two  impulses.  Industry,  from  the 
simple  gathering  of  shell-fish  and  nuts  by  savages  to  the  com- 
plicated machinery  of  modern  city  factories,  has  its  origin 
and  support  in  the  demand  for  food  and  clothing  and  shelter. 


44  Social  Elements 


All  other  wants  wait  on  these  and  are  attached  to  them.  Out 
of  the  sexual  instinct  grow  families,  throngs  of  children,  in- 
habitants of  towns,  armies,  school  population,  nations.  The 
regulation  of  these  powerful  animal  instincts  is  the  slow 
achievement  of  civilization,  of  morals,  government,  custom, 
public  opinion,  and  religion.  Their  abuses  constitute  the 
perils  of  order  and  progress.  Their  right  direction  secures 
the  ends  of  existence.  "So  far  as  he  is  a  social  animal,  that 
is,  an  animal  liable  in  various  ways  to  make  his  neighbor  un- 
comfortable, it  is  certainly  prudent  to  remember  always  that, 
though  his  natural  impulses  may  be  restrained,  or  guided,  or 
even  improved,  yet  that  they  are  always  there  and  ready  to 
take  the  bit  in  their  teeth  at  the  first  chance  which  offers  " 
(J.  R.  Lowell). 

The  suitable  regulation  of  the  appetites  must  be  determined 
primarily  by  physiology.  The  ethics  of  the  temperance  ques- 
tion turn  on  the  discoveries  of  physiological  science  as  to  the 
effects  of  alcohol  in  various  forms  and  quantities  upon  the 
health.  The  legislator  and  the  advocate  of  total  abstinence 
would  have  no  powers  of  persuasion  without  the  verdict  of  the 
medical  profession.  Common  observation  needs  to  be  sup- 
plemented by  the  nicer  discriminations  of  experimentalists 
before  we  can  decide  whether  a  regulation  should  be  applied 
to  all  persons  or  only  in  certain  cases.  The  argument  for 
legislation  in  favor  of  periodical  rest  is  largely  based  on  accu- 
mulated knowledge  of  the  effects  of  unremitting  exertion  on 
the  muscular  and  nervous  tissues. 

There  are  physiological  ideals  for  social  legislation.  When 
physicians  declare  that  six  hundred  cubic  feet  of  air  are  neces- 
sary for  each  person,  and  that  allowance  must  be  made  for  the 
consumption  of  oxygen  by  gas  jets  or  lamps,  there  is  a  basis 
for  a  rule  of  building  and  occupancy  of  tenements.  When 
physicians  agree  that  one  day  in  seven  must  be  taken  for  re- 
cuperation of  bodily  energy,  we  have  at  once  a  principle  for 
the  direction  of  action  by  trade  unions,  clubs,  legislators, 
and  public  opinion.  Bodily  integrity  conditions  knowledge, 
for  the  first  materials  of  knowledge  come  to  us  first  through  the 
senses,  as  of  sight,  hearing,  taste,  touch,  smell.  No  picture 
of  Raphael  would  mean  anything  to  the  blind.     Rossini's 


TJie  Social  Member:  the  Person  45 

music  would  remain  dead  to  the  deaf.  The  perfumes  of 
flowers  would  give  no  pleasure  to  those  deprived  of  the  sense 
of  smell.  The  emotions  which  accompany  the  processes  of 
knowledge  would  be  forbidden  enjoyments  to  those  deprived 
of  the  physical  organization  through  which  alone  these  forms 
of  knowledge  enter  the  spirit. 

The  stages  of  physical  development  and  decay  furnish  seri- 
ous social  problems.  Infancy,  adolescence,  maturity,  and  old 
age  bring  with  them  difficulties  and  crises  which  concern  the 
community  and  demand  rules  of  reason,  laws,  modes  of  dis- 
cipline, special  sacrifice,  and  appropriate  sentiments. 

The  prolongation  of  the  helplessness  of  human  infants  is 
at  least  one  important  cause  of  the  rise  and  refinement  of 
parental  feelings  and  sentiments.  It  is  the  feebleness  and 
dependence  of  the  babe  which  makes  the  family.  When 
affections  have  grown  more  responsive  and  tender,  and  men 
begin  to  care  for  the  sick  and  the  aged,  just  because  their 
suffering  and  need  awaken  sympathy  and  pity,  the  very  defects 
of  existence  become  the  occasion  of  new  virtues  and  nobler 
qualities. 

Here,  also,  we  must  notice  the  inheritance  of  spiritual 
qualities  and  dispositions  through  physical  inheritance.  So 
intimate  and  real  is  the  organic  connection  between  mind  and 
body  that  mental  characteristics  go  down  with  bodily  traits 
and  conditions. 

In  order  to  understand  the  race  question,  we  must  begin 
with  a  careful  consideration  of  the  differences  in  the  cranium, 
skeleton,  brain,  muscular  system,  and  other  inherited  marks 
which  distinguish  one  people  from  others.  We  must  discover 
the  intellectual,  emotional,  and  moral  qualities  which  have 
come  down  from  remote  ancestors  and  have  fixed  the  limits 
within  which  change  is  possible. 

In  the  study  of  economic  conditions  in  various  countries, 
problems  of  poverty  and  riches,  of  great  and  small  incomes,  of 
adaptation  to  creative  and  merely  routine  labors,  we  cannot 
leave  out  of  account  inherited  powers  and  capacities.  Even 
crime  and  pauperism  are  not  to  be  understood  apart  from  the 
inheritance  of  bodily  peculiarities. 

From  ancient  times  poets  and  statesmen  have  loved  to  com- 


46  Social  Elements 


pare  society  to  the  complex  and  unified  system  of  organs  which 
constitute  the  body.  The  ancient  Roman  orator  who  sought 
to  quell  the  mob  by  showing  them  that  the  stomach  must  work 
for  the  hands  while  the  hands  fight  and  toil  for  the  entire  body, 
and  who  drew  the  inference  that  there  must  be  laborers  as  well 
as  soldiers  and  rulers  in  the  state,  employed  this  analogy  as  an 
argument.  Paul,  in  his  first  letter  to  the  Corinthians,  used 
the  same  picture :  "  For  as  the  body  is  one,  and  hath  many 
members,  and  all  the  members  of  the  body,  being  many,  are 
one  body,"  and  applied  the  parable  in  persuading  to  harmony 
and  humility.  Each  separate  cell  has  a  life  of  its  own,  but  it 
cannot  remain  alive  apart  from  its  place  in  the  body,  and  it  is 
only  in  union  with  millions  of  other  cells  that  it  can  share  in 
the  exalted  mode  of  being  peculiar  to  mankind. 

//.  The  Mind  of  Man. — We  know  that  as  the  nervous 
system  grows  the  mental  powers  increase,  and  that  when 
brain  and  spinal  cord  are  impaired  by  disease  or  old  age 
that  the  mental  powers  are  disturbed  or  fail.  Without  touch, 
sight,  and  hearing,  by  which  the  body  feels  its  way  in  the 
material  world,  the  soul  never  wakes  from  its  infant  slumber. 

Psychology  takes  up  the  consideration  of  the  growth  of  the 
mental  acts  and  states,  analyzes  them,  studies  the  conditions 
under  which  they  arise,  change,  and  disappear. 

The  Soul's  Life.  —  For  what  we  are  about  to  consider  there 
is  no  need  of  external  witnesses,  proofs,  and  authority.  The 
mind  of  each  student  is  highest  authority  and  original  docu- 
ment. Discussion  can  do  no  more  than  waken  the  mind  to 
observe  itself  at  work.  We  are  studying  modes  of  associated 
human  activity,  institutions,  and  their  causes.  All  these 
causes  lie  in  the  souls  of  men,  and  each  soul  is  of  kin  to 
all  others.  Let  one  master  the  contents  of  his  own  mind 
and  he  is  prepared  to  read  off  the  secret  sources  of  all  the  in- 
stitutions of  mankind,  from  the  laws  of  Solon  down  to  the 
regulations  of  a  base-ball  club  or  evening  party. 

The  Mental  Contributions  of  the  Senses.  — That  hidden  "  I  " 
which  is  born  with  each  begins  with  scant  faculties  and  skill, 
but  has  capacity  to  attain  to  mastery  of  the  world  of  matter 
and  of  spirit.  At  first  blinking  and  uncertain  of  the  meaning 
of  lights  and  colors  and  forms,   the  child  comes    gradually, 


TJic  Social  Member i  the  Person  47 

and  by  many  blundering  experiments,  into  fair  possession  of 
the  power  of  seeing.  Into  the  spirit  there  flows  by  this  gate 
all  fair  forms  and  sights,  colors,  shapes,  hues,  shades,  — mate- 
rials afterward  for  guiding  conduct,  for  combining  into  paint- 
ings and  machinery,  into  poems  and  orations  and  laws. 

Hearing  contributes  other  elements  to  the  inward  wealth  of 
the  spirit  life.  Consider  the  waking  of  the  babe  at  the  soft 
sound  of  the  mother's  voice,  and  think  of  the  dreamy  waiting 
for  the  merry  laughter  of  brothers  and  sisters.  Its  own  cries, 
merely  instinctive  at  first,  discover  to  the  ignorant  immigrant 
into  this  world  that  the  cry  will  bring  nourishment  and  com- 
fort and  gentle  caress  and  warmth.  The  discovery  of  the 
power  of  its  own  voice  is  a  step  outward  into  the  social  world. 
Fortunate  is  that  infant  whose  ears  are  long  spared  the  jarring 
noises  of  strife,  the  din  of  harsh  and  disagreeable  sounds,  the 
exclamations  of  impatience  and  ill  temper.  Fortunate  that 
man  whose  ears  have  drunk  in  melodies  of  concord  from  the 
dawn  of  existence  in  the  home.  "The  ear  is  the  way  to  the 
heart.  Envelope  an  infant  in  an  atmosphere  of  sweet  sounds, 
tender  and  happy,  and  you  work  for  his  immediate  happiness, 
and  do  much  for  his  future  disposition  and  morality  "  (Perez). 

Thus,  also,  we  might  enter  in  detail  into  the  various  contri- 
butions to  our  knowledge  made  by  the  senses  of  touch,  taste, 
smell,  temperature,  organic  sensations,  and  muscular  feelings. 
Each  of  these  forms  of  sensations  has  its  own  peculiar  gift  to 
bring  to  life,  each  combines  in  various  ways  with  all  the 
others  to  furnish  the  mind  with  the  elements  of  memory,  and 
all  together  lay  a  foundation  for  all  the  higher  processes  of 
learning  and  doing  and  enjoying. 

Pathetic  is  the  case  of  those  who  not  only  suffer  from  the 
mutilation  or  destruction  of  the  special  nerves  of  hearing 
and  sight,  but  whose  interior  brain  is  so  defective  or  dis- 
eased that  even  the  wisest  and  most  patient  tuition  can  go 
but  a  little  way  to  establish  communication  with  the  outer 
world  of  things  and  living  beings.  Here  in  the  feeble-minded, 
—  imbecile  and  idiot,  — we  discover  how  narrow  the  range  of 
spiritual  activity  when  the  physical  medium  of  thought  is  not 
supplied  at  birth.  Some  are  themselves  insensible  to  pain, 
and  therefore  can  inflict  wounds  upon  themselves  or  upon  their 


48  Social  Elements 


companions  without  shrinking  and  remorse,  and  even  with  a 
sort  of  animal  satisfaction.  In  such  ways  we  may  realize  the 
debt  our  souls  owe  to  the  senses  for  their  early  and  continual 
supply  of  reliable  reports  from  the  outer  world. 

Step  by  step  the  fabric  of  knowledge  is  woven  by  ever  more 
complex  methods  and  with  richer  materials,  the  shuttle  flying 
back  and  forth  at  each  moment  to  weave  together  into  one 
soul  all  that  is  learned  from  every  source,  and  to  construct 
new  patterns.  Memory  collects  these  images  and  holds  them, 
by  the  help  of  the  nervous  structure  in  which,  as  in  leaves  of 
books,  the  characters  of  impressions  are  stored. 

Not  in  some  irregular  and  disorderly  way,  but  according  to 
laws  quite  clearly  stated  by  psychologists,  these  images  and 
records  of  experience  are  laid  down  in  the  memory,  ready  to 
spring  forth  at  call  of  occasion  or  of  choice.  Objects  which 
resemble  come  up  again  together  when  they  are  wanted  or 
needed,  as  sunrise  and  lamplight  suggest  each  other.  Ob- 
jects which  have  come  into  the  mind  in  company  are  apt 
to  come  out  in  recollections  at  the  same  call,  as  when  we 
hear  the  airs  of  a  music-box  bought  in  Germany  we  are  at 
once  transported  in  imagination  to  the  distant  city  where  the 
tones  were  first  heard.  Strong  contrasts  are  also  apt  to  be 
associated;  and  it  is  easier  to  remember  two  men  very  much 
unlike  in  height  and  appearance  than  to  recall  two  soldiers 
made  to  appear  almost  alike  by  uniforms  and  lost  in  a  mass  of 
soldiers,  all  dressed  in  the  same  way. 

Imagination  recalls  the  impressions  thus  stored  away,  some- 
times much  as  they  entered  the  mind,  but  often  in  new  com- 
binations, especially  when  the  "creative"  genius  of  the  artist 
surprises  us  with  a  composition  of  figures  and  landscape  which 
borrows  elements  from  many  places  but  is  itself  a  new  object 
of  contemplation,  not  just  like  any  picture  that  nature  ever 
showed. 

It  is  not  possible  here  to  do  more  than  mention  the  processes 
of  thinking  by  which  conceptions  are  formed  and  minds  come 
to  connect  objects  and  remembered  events  in  judgments  and 
long  processes  of  reasoning. 

Out  of  all  this  process  of  mind-growth  each  one  comes  at  last 
to  realize  that  he  lives  in  a  universe  where  he  can  distinguish 


The  Social  Member:  tlie  Person  49 

himself  from  the  external  world  and  have  glimpses  of  that 
Higher  Being  who  lives  in  all  and  must  be  thought  of  as  the 
Perfect  One. 

Accompanying  this  history  of  learning  is  the  development 
of  the  emotions.  When  objects  are  brought  before  our  minds, 
they  excite  in  us  feelings  corresponding  to  their  nature  and 
our  relations  to  them. 

We  may  next  set  down  some  of  those  feelings  which  arise 
in  connection  with  the  mind's  search  for  truth.  Wonder  is 
a  common  experience  in  the  presence  of  appearances  which 
we  cannot  yet  account  for.  Take,  for  an  example,  the  long 
roll  of  thunder,  repeated  many  times  after  the  flashes  of  light- 
ning. It  awakens  eager  desire  to  understand  the  source  and 
cause  of  it.  This  wonder  acts  as  an  incentive  to  inquire  and 
make  experiments  until  it  is  found  that  the  clouds  themselves 
reflect  from  their  surfaces  the  movements  of  air  caused  by  the 
explosion  whose  flash  first  attracted  attention.  There  is  also 
an  emotion  of  satisfaction  and  pleased  gratification  when  the 
cause  is  found  and  the  fact  is  explained.  The  pursuit  of  truth 
and  the  discovery  of  truth  are  but  the  sources  of  emotions  of 
pleasure,  while  uncertainty  and  defeat  are  causes  of  painful 
feelings. 

The  emotions  accompanying  the  perception  of  beauty  are 
of  a  different  kind.  To  refresh  the  memory  in  regard  to  this 
emotion  one  may  recall  a  visit  to  some  famous  picture,  or  the 
hearing  of  a  great  work  of  musical  art,  or  the  enjoyment  of  a 
charming  landscape. 

Our  experiences  in  society  call  out  emotions  of  a  different 
order,  as  love,  hate,  anger,  jealousy,  sympathy.  These  feel- 
ings are  aroused  by  our  contact  with  our  fellows,  or  by  thoughts 
of  them. 

Professor  Tracy  adopts  the  classification  of  Professor  Prever 
in  regard  to  the  movements  with  which  a  child  begins  to 
develop  will.  First,  there  are  the  impulsive  movements  of 
children  which  proceed  from  within  and  are  not  excited  by 
any  action  or  happening  external  to  the  person.  The  infant 
moves  his  limbs,  turns  his  eyes,  yawns  and  stretches,  curls  up 
into  a  ball,  or  reaches  out  his  hands  without  any  apparent 
cause.     There   is  no  distinct  act  of  the  will  in  this  kind  of 


50  Social  Elements 


movement,  although  the  child  discovers  himself  and  feels  his 
body  through  just  such  action.  He  remembers  these  involun- 
tary movements  and  the  comfort  they  give  him,  and  he  repeats 
them  afterwards  with  evidence  of  intention. 

There  come  next  the  movements  which  arise  in  consequence 
of  some  external  influence,  but  are  not  the  result  of  purpose, 
as  in  blinking,  or  removal  of  a  finger  from  a  briar  or  hot  lamp. 

Then  come  the  instincts,  by  virtue  of  which  animals  and 
young  children  seek  food  and  protection  and  companionship, 
but  without  any  deliberate  plan  or  reflection. 

And  highest  of  all  is  the  real  act  of  choice  in  view  of  many 
considerations  and  ideas.  It  is  here  that  man  becomes  con- 
sciously himself,  a  being  of  reflection,  thought,  and  will. 

The  permanent  results  of  choices  are  for  the  individual  cer- 
tain permanent  dispositions  and  ways  of  acting,  called  habits. 
The  complete  result  is  a  character  which  becomes  one  of  the 
facts  of  life  with  which  we  must  take  account. 

We  have  thus  hastily  sketched  the  elements  of  the  mental 
life,  and  now  ask  ourselves  what  this  means  for  social  doctrine. 

Thought  determines  action.  "  The  end  of  action  must  be 
a  function  of  the  content  which  arouses  the  action.  The  dog 
acts  with  reference  to  perceptions,  they  are  the  best  he  can  do. 
The  man  acts  with  reference  to  concepts,  with  distant  aims 
before  him  in  space  and  time;  he  can  do  it  because  he  is  able 
to  feel  the  value  of  the  distant  and  the  general.  The  nature 
of  the  knowledge  is  that  which  determines  the  sort  of  action, 
and  the  action  must  terminate  upon  this  knowledge,  not  on 
some  other  knowledge,  be  it  better  or  be  it  worse  knowledge  " 
(Baldwin). 

Our  interest  in  the  world  advances  from  particular  objects 
to  larger  ranges  of  objects,  and  extends  to  persons  and  ideas 
which  did  not  at  first  command  the  least  notice.  It  may 
be  said  that  sympathies  and  desires  attach  themselves  to  our 
thoughts,  and  that  they  are  the  expression  of  our  endeavor  to 
attain  the  objects  of  life. 

If  we  wish  to  know  why  men  have  acted  in  a  certain  fashion, 
we  must  discover  their  modes  of  thinking,  the  contents  of 
their  intelligence.  If  we  have  a  practical  purpose  to  move 
them  in  a  direction  thought  better  by  us,  we  must  find  some 


The  Social  Member:  the  Person  51 

way  of  gaining  possession  of  their  attention  for  the  forms  of 
knowledge  which  will  naturally  kindle  their  interest. 

The  Similarity  of  Mental  Operations  audits  Meaning.  — For 
our  purpose  it  is  very  significant  that  an  analysis  of  sensations, 
emotions,  mental  processes  of  learning,  are  good  for  India, 
China,  Africa,  and  Nevada.  A  standard  work  on  psychology, 
translated  into  any  language,  would  be  intelligible  to  any  com- 
petent person  who  had  sufficient  maturity  to  reflect  on  his  own 
inner  life.  Even  in  men  who  are  too  undisciplined  to  under- 
stand books  every  one  of  the  essential  elements  of  thought, 
feeling,  and  volition  is  present.  Think  how  far  this  carries 
us!  It  means  that  humanity  can  communicate;  that  there  is 
a  bridge  over  the  chasm  which  divides  races;  that  souls  are 
akin. 

All  spirits  arise  out  of  one  Spirit,  and  are  related  to  each 
other,  as  children  of  one  father  are  alike  by  virtue  of  com- 
mon spiritual  origin.  There  is  one  reason,  and  in  that  reason 
all  persons  are  united. 

The  differences  among  individuals  are  also  of  great  interest, 
as  well  as  their  likenesses.  Age  makes  one  set  of  differences. 
The  spiritual  nature  of  each  human  being  passes  through  many 
stages  of  development, —  infancy,  adolescence,  maturity,  old 


age. 


"  All  the  world's  a  stage, 
And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players : 
They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances; 
And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts, 
His  acts  being  seven  ages.     At  first  the  infant, 
Mewling  and  puking  in  the  nurse's  arms. 
And  then  the  whining  school-boy,  with  his  satchel, 
And  shining  morning  face,  creeping  like  snail 
Unwillingly  to  school.     And  then  the  lover, 
Sighing  like  furnace,  with  a  woful  ballad 
Made  to  his  mistress'  eyebrow.     Then  a  soldier, 
Full  of  strange  oaths,  and  bearded  like  the  pard, 
Jealous  in  honor,  sudden  and  quick  in  quarrel, 
Seeking  the  bubble  reputation 

Even  in  the  cannon's  mouth.     And  then  the  justice, 
In  fair  round  belly  with  good  capon  lined, 
With  eyes  severe,  and  beard  of  formal  cut, 
Full  of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances, 
And  so  he  plays  his  part.     The  sixth  age  shifts 


52  Social  Elements 


Into  the  lean  and  slippered  pantaloon, 

With  spectacle  on  nose,  well  saved,  a  world  too  wide 

For  his  shrunk  shank;   and  his  big  manly  voice, 

Turning  again  toward  childish  treble,  pipes 

And  whistles  in  his  sound.     Last  scene  of  all, 

That  ends  this  strange  eventful  history, 

In  second  childishness,  and  mere  oblivion,  — 

Sans  teeth,  sans  eyes,  sans  taste,  sans  everything." 

—  As  You  Like  It,  II,  vii. 

Mental  differences  are  also  due,  in  marked  degree,  to  sex. 
Illustrations  may  be  supplied  by  mothers  and  teachers  from 
common  observation.  Social  theory  and  practice  must  take 
account  of  differences  of  temperament,  talent,  and  taste. 
Other  differences  are  due  to  race.  Stages  of  civilization  mark 
their  elevation  in  the  character  of  the  members  of  .a  com- 
munity. Other  distinctions  are  due  to  the  moulding  influ- 
ence of  callings  and  professions,  as  those  which  mark  actors, 
lawyers,  artists,  clergymen,  judges,  managers  of  industry, 
salesmen. 

Collect  from  the  newspapers  of  a  month  the  biographies  or 
brief  chapters  of  conduct  of  individuals  there  recorded.  The 
death  of  a  statesman  calls  for  an  account  of  his  education  and 
public  career.  The  arrest  of  a  burglar  recalls  the  story  of 
neglected  childhood,  wayward  youth,  undisciplined  manhood, 
and  final  ruin.  The  corner  of  a  wheat  market  causes  the 
ubiquitous  reporters  to  investigate  the  past  of  the  venture- 
some dealer  in  grain  and  sound  his  praises  while  he  stands  for 
a  brief  period  in  the  blaze  of  notoriety.  The  union  of  trunk 
lines  in  a  far-extended  railroad  system  reveals  in  detail  the 
most  minute  acts  of  the  captain  of  industry. 

The  experience  of  daily  life  brings  us  into  contact  with 
characters  of  many  kinds  and  colors.  The  teacher  of  the 
village  school  must  discriminate  between  the  dull,  the  bright, 
the  industrious  and  the  lazy,  the  conscientious  and  the  un- 
scrupulous, the  grateful  and  the  rude.  The  merchant  learns 
to  read  the  characters  of  customers,  and  the  bank  president 
must  know  how  to  recognize  the  man  who  can  be  entrusted 
with  borrowed  money.  All  our  lives  we  are  compelled  to 
guide  our  action  by  these  discriminating  studies  of  persons. 
Our  success  and  failure  are  largely  determined  by  our  acute- 


The  Social  Member:  tJie  Person  53 

ness  and  fairness  in  judging  the  inner  capacity  and  disposition 
by  face,  gesture,  voice,  acts,  conduct. 

Biography  and  descriptive  history  furnish  many  examples 
of  distinctive  characters,  and  they  should  be  studied  by  the 
person  who  would  understand  the  amazing  variety  of  factors 
which  have  entered  into  the  formation  of  the  community  life 
of  our  age.  If  some  historians  have  given  too  much  emphasis 
to  the  value  of  particular  heroes  and  leaders,  and  too  little  to 
the  general  forces  which  move  the  multitudes,  others  have 
given  too  little  attention  to  the  impression  made  on  mankind 
by  the  gifted  men  who  break  paths  for  their  followers  and 
show  the  method  to  those  who  are  groping  in  the  dark. 

It  takes  all  kinds  of  people  to  make  a  world.  To  our  imper- 
fect understanding  some  people  are  hard  to  explain  on  any 
reasonable  view  of  a  moral  universe.  Certainly  one  would 
think  the  world  could  have  staggered  along  without  Nero,  the 
bloody  emperor,  and  without  the  madmen  who  deluged  Paris 
with  blood  in  the  days  of  the  Revolution.  No  philosopher 
has  ever  given  a  completely  satisfactory  excuse  for  mosquitoes, 
gnats,  cobras,  typhoid  and  tuberculous  bacilli,  and  still  less 
for  murderers  and  perjurers  and  seducers.  Perhaps,  however, 
larger  wisdom  will  make  even  these  things  clear,  and  mean- 
time we  must  make  room  for  them  as  facts  in  our  system  of 
society.  Even  if  we  dislike  certain  kinds  of  persons,  we  must 
make  our  plans  with  reference  to  them. 

The  painters  and  sculptors  assist  us  to  enrich  our  con- 
ceptions of  the  vast  variety  of  forms  taken  by  the  human 
spirit.  Portraits,  busts,  and  statues  set  before  us  the  out- 
ward aspects  of  men  and  women  who  have  graced  or  cursed 
the  world. 

In  fiction  and  dramatic  literature  we  discover  multitudes  of 
types  and  characters.  George  Eliot  gives  us  Felix  Holt,  the 
Radical.  In  another  story  there  rises  before  our  minds  the 
grand  figure  of  Adam  Bede,  the  honest  carpenter,  who  sings 
at  his  work :  — 

"  Let  all  thy  converse  be  sincere, 
Thy  conscience  as  the  noonday  clear, 
For  God's  all-seeing  eye  surveys 
Thy  secret  thoughts,  thy  works,  thy  ways." 


54  Social  Elements 


And  again  the  shrewd  Mrs.  Poyser,  or  the  weak  beauty,  or 
the  sweet,  primitive  Methodist  woman  preacher  is  the  centre 
of  imagination. 

Shakespeare  crowds  upon  his  stage  in  bewildering  variety 
all  sorts  of  men  and  women, —  kings,  rogues,  jesters,  severe 
judges,  grave-diggers,  braggarts,  drunkards,  innocent  children, 
fiendish  and  heartless  assassins,  knavish  traitors,  noble  women, 
—  all  unlike,  yet  all  akin. 

The  novels  of  Charles  Dickens  form  a  gallery  of  characters 
of  surpassing  interest.  How  dull  the  world  would  be  if  all 
were  cut  after  the  same  pattern !  How  impossible  it  would  be 
to  live  in  a  world  where  the  worst  could  reign  in  a  majority. 
Take  the  pictures  at  random,  for  only  a  library  could  present 
them  all.  There  is  Little  Nell,  "a  small  and  delicate  child 
of  angelic  purity  of  character  and  sweetness  of  disposition, 
who  lives  alone  with  her  grandfather,  an  old  man  possessed  by 
a  mania  for  gambling,  his  object  being  to  make  her  rich  and 
happy."  There  is  Mr.  Pickwick,  founder  of  a  club  whose 
members  give  themselves  unlimited  liberty  to  pursue  scientific 
research,  upon  the  understanding  that  each  shall  pay  his  own 
expenses.  We  see  in  Mr.  Pecksniff  the  incarnation  of  hypoc- 
risy. He  is  a  surveyor  and  architect,  who  never  surveys,  and 
whose  only  plans  seem  to  be  to  squeeze  gain  out  of  deluded 
victims  of  his  dishonesty.  He  is  a  very  moral  man, —  his 
own  word  being  proof  of  it.  His  genius  lay  in  ensnaring 
parents  and  guardians  and  pocketing  premiums.  The  dark 
under-world  of  city  life  reveals  itself  in  Nancy,  a  thief  in 
Fagin's  service,  and  mistress  to  Sikes,  to  whom,  brutal  as  he 
is,  she  is  always  faithful  and  devoted. 

Genius  is  a  special  development  of  humanity  of  the  highest 
social  interest.  When  a  happy  combination  of  hereditary 
gifts,  physical  endowments,  outward  circumstances  of  educa- 
tion, and  favorable  habits  have  conferred  on  the  world  a 
Milton,  Newton,  Descartes,  Darwin,  Washington,  Lincoln,  the 
cause  of  civilization  is  advanced  more  than  by  an  army  of 
mere  imitators. 

These  differences  between  human  beings  are  not  of  kind, 
but  of  degree  and  proportions.  All  belong  to  one  kind, — 
mankind.     There  is  only  one  species,  though  there  are  many 


TJic  Social  Member:  the  Person  55 

varieties.  Wordsworth  has  helped  us  to  see  that  there  is  a 
common  element  worthy  of  our  veneration.  "  He  who  feels 
contempt  for  any  living  thing,  hath  faculties  that  he  hath  never 
used." 

These  differences  are  the  ground  and  cause  of  unity.  Special 
aptitude  and  special  ability  give  pleasure  to  their  possessor  in 
their  exercise;  he  cultivates  his  gift,  and  it  brings  him  suc- 
cess, rewards,  praise,  honors.  He  specializes  still  more,  and 
with  finer  results.  He  is  imitated  by  others,  who  become  his 
disciples,  and  thus  a  profession  or  trade  is  built  up,  a  class  in 
the  community.  This  calling  is  found  to  be  indispensable  to 
the  members  of  society.  In  like  manner  other  trades  and  pro- 
fessions arise.  The  products  must  be  exchanged;  the  trading 
and  banking  classes  emerge;  all  persons  are  bound  together 
by  bonds  of  interest  and  necessity  and  can  no  longer  live  in 
isolation.     Hence  cities  and  even  international  commerce. 

Unity  is  not  sameness,  uniformity.  It  is  just  the  opposite. 
It  is  founded  on  differences.  But  these  differences  are  of  per- 
sons of  the  same  kind,  persons  who  use  a  common  language, 
live  by  similar  food,  and  are  tolerant  and  capable  of  com- 
promise and  concession  for  the  sake  of  peace.  The  peculiari- 
ties are  accidental;  the  likeness  is  essential,  fundamental. 

If  the  peculiarities  are  excessive,  then  arises  unfitness  for 
social  cooperation,  and  we  have  the  criminal,  the  insane,  the 
pauper,  the  defective.  Disease,  misfortune,  or  vice  may  re- 
move one  so  far  from  useful  ways  that  he  is  out  of  his  orbit, 
and  the  attractive  forces  of  society  no  longer  hold  him  to  his 
task.  Then  there  remains  only  severe  and  special  discipline 
or  seclusion,  and  even  exclusion. 

III.  The  Process  of  Development. — The  individual  grows 
into  possession  of  self  with  the  help  of  the  environment.  In 
modern  "Child  Study  "  we  have  opened  to  us  a  method  of 
investigation  which  promises  to  throw  much  light  on  the  nature 
of  social  life,  on  community  bonds,  and  on  the  progress  of  the 
race  in  knowledge  and  character.  Many  proofs  have  come 
from  physiology  and  from  child  study  that  the  order  of  devel- 
opment of  each  modern  child  follows,  in  a  very  general  way, 
the  order  in  which  human  races  have  ascended  from  primitive 
savagery  to  civilization.     This  suggestion  leads  us  to  pursue 


56  Social  Elements 


two  directions  of  investigation:  first,  we  are  prompted  to 
watch  the  development  of  the  child  to  discover  hints  as  to  the 
probable  past  of  our  race;  and,  further,  we  are  led  to  study 
the  development  of  the  race  in  order  to  understand  the  order 
in  which  the  mental  traits  of  children  must  advance  from 
animal  simplicity  to  adult  fulness  of  life. 

IV.  He?-edity  as  a  Factor  in  Traits  and  Powers.  —  The 
mental  powers  must  be  studied  in  the  light  of  their  origin  and 
development. 

Here  three  elements  require  attention, —  heredity,  educa- 
tion, and  the  personal  assimilation  and  recomposition  of  what 
is  inherited  and  learned  from  others.  All  these  elements  are 
mingled,  like  the  waters  of  three  fountains,  and  who  can  tell 
exactly  how  much  is  due  to  each?  In  a  child's  face  we  see 
something  of  father  and  mother,  something  of  the  race  to 
which  he  belongs,  and  something  which  gives  him  his  own 
character,  and  which  makes  him  fit  to  carry  an  individual  name. 

It  is  not  enough  to  satisfy  our  scientific  curiosity  and  reason 
to  trace  influences  to  our  infancy  and  to  our  immediate  ances- 
tors and  neighbors.  We  are  compelled  to  ask  how  our  ancestors 
and  our  neighbors  came  by  those  qualities  which  they  have 
had  the  goodness  or  badness  to  hand  over  to  us  with  or  with- 
out our  personal  permission.  How  far  should  we  go  back? 
Whither  will  the  quest  lead?  There  is  no  end  of  inquiry 
until  we  have  exhausted  the  materials  of  knowledge.  At 
present  we  may  postpone  this  large  and  general  inquiry  and 
take  the  point  up  again  when  we  come  to  consider  the  general 
causes  of  social  order  and  progress. 

V.  The  Individual  Mind  is  the  Only  Centre  of  Social  Forces. 
—  There  is  no  "social"  mental  experience  outside  of  indi- 
vidual persons.  There  is  no  social  brain  or  consciousness 
apart  from  the  separate  brains  and  inner  lives  of  the  millions 
of  individuals  who  compose  the  race.  Take  away  the  par- 
ticular persons,  one  by  one,  and  no  society  would  be  left. 

It  was  said  of  an  eminent  Frenchman,  that  he  had  but  to 
consult  his  own  heart  and  he  knew  instantly  the  thoughts, 
ambitions,  and  hopes  of  the  French  people.  It  is  by  study- 
ing the  man  within  that  we  learn  what  is  going  on  in  the  souls 
of  our  neighbors.     Each  person  is  a  man  and  knows  mankind. 


The  Social  Member:  the  Person  57 

We  may  therefore  study  the  social  element  in  each  of  the 
forms  of  mental  action  which  psychology  analyzes.  These 
forms  may  be  conveniently  summed  up  in  the  words,  "know- 
ing," "feeling,"  "willing."  But  we  must  never  forget  that 
these  modes  of  consciousness  all  belong  equally  and  essentially 
to  oneself.  At  a  given  moment  the  same  person  is  thinking, 
is  enjoying  a  pleasant  state  of  consciousness,  and  is  making  a 
resolve  to  take  measures  to  prolong  the  agreeable  condition. 
But  one  or  the  other  of  these  modes  of  mental  life  may  be 
selected  for  particular  consideration  and  attention,  and  one 
or  the  other  may  be  uppermost. 

The  Social  Element  in  Knowledge.  —  We  cannot  here  go 
beyond  illustration  of  the  main  factors  in  thinking.  We  may 
begin  with  a  perception.  Let  the  object  chosen  for  attention 
be  the  port  of  a  lake  town,  with  ships  sailing  in  and  out,  with 
smokestacks  of  steamers  visible  in  all  directions  on  the  water. 
Along  the  wharf  on  a  warm  summer  day  may  be  gathered  a 
thousand  persons,  all  gazing  out  upon  the  scene,  watching  the 
movement  of  the  vessels.  It  is  true  the  lake  does  not  look 
exactly  alike  to  any  two  persons,  but  the  picture  impressed  on 
all  minds  is  the  same.  If  there  are  artists  in  the  company, 
they  might  sketch  substantially  the  same  outline  of  objects,  so 
that  each  drawing  might  be  recognized  as  a  representation  of 
the  same  port.  By  comparison  of  impressions  the  people 
can  have  a  common  object  of  conversation.  Thus  while  each 
retina  will  take  a  distinct  photograph,  all  can  find  themselves 
in  agreement  in  the  assertion  that  they  see  the  same  lake,  sky, 
breakwaters,  steam  and  sail  vessels. 

There  is  a  common  content  in  the  imagination  of  objects, 
as  we  can  readily  prove  by  describing  a  scene  and  asking  a 
hundred  persons  to  make  a  picture  of  it. 

In  the  various  processes  of  thinking,  forming  concepts, 
judgments,  reasoning,  and  classifying  facts  into  a  system,  we 
discover  in  each  mind  a  social  factor.  Watch  the  process  of 
mental  interchange  in  a  conversation  or  in  a  public  assembly. 
The  reader  interprets  the  author  to  a  company  of  persons  who 
have  never  heard  or  read  the  poems  or  the  orations.  Some- 
thing goes  over  from  him  to  the  audience  from  the  author's 
soul.     The  look  of  interest  reacts  upon  the  mind  of  the  reader 


58  Social  Elements 


and  assists  him  to  give  more  truth  and  power  to  his  presenta- 
tion. Thus  there  is  a  constant  passing  of  all  kinds  of  mental 
contents    from   one    mind    to    another   in    daily   intercourse. 

"There  is  no  individual  man  for  ethics,  for  psychology,  for 
logic,  or  for  sociology,  except  by  abstraction, —  that  is,  if  by 
individual  man  we  mean  a  being  not  influenced  by  social 
forces, —  nor  are  there  any  feelings,  thoughts,  or  volitions  in 
any  man  which  are  independent  of  such  forces.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  is  no  social  or  collective  sentiment  which  exists 
except  in  the  medium  of  individual  consciousness  "  (Professor 
J.  H.  Tufts).1 

The  Sociable  Nature  of  the  Individual.  —  The  individual  is 
debtor  and  creditor,  imitator  and  creator.  Each  human  being 
at  every  moment  of  his  life  is  trading  with  his  fellows,  con- 
sciously and  unconsciously.  He  copies  from  others  and  sets 
the  pace  for  others.  He  follows  and  then  leads.  The  growth 
of  each  person  is  forwarded  by  the  process  of  taking  in  im- 
pressions from  others,  by  imitation  succeeded  by  new  compo- 
sitions of  ideas.  The  child  of  a  king,  suckled  by  a  wolf,  and 
never  permitted  to  see  a  human  being,  would  probably  know 
no  other  language  than  a  howl.  It  is  possible  that  with  supe- 
rior hereditary  equipment  he  might  imitate  birds,  and  invent 
some  sounds  that  would  surprise  his  foster-parents.  But  it 
would  remain  true  that  without  intercourse  with  his  kind  the 
range  of  thought  and  language  would  be  little  above  that  of 
brutes. 

VI.  At  this  point  we  may  call  attention  to  the  many-sided 
relations  of  the  individual.  If  we  take  up  each  social  insti- 
tution and  relation  in  order,  we  may  discover  that  the  same 
citizen  may  be  connected  in  some  way  with  each.  By  follow- 
ing this  clue  we  shall  be  preserved  from  the  serious  error  of 
imagining  that  social  institutions  are  merely  isolated  groups 
of  distinct  persons,  and  that  these  groups  are  separated  from 
each  other  by  high  barriers. 

The  citizen  belongs  to  a  family  and  occupies  there  a  place 

1  "  There  are  no  thoughts  which  think  themselves,  no  language  which  has  ex- 
isted except  in  the  speech  of  the  individual,  no  belief  and  no  science  which  has 
shone  like  a  universal  sun  above  the  heads  of  individuals,  no  constitution  which 
has  existed  elsewhere  than  in  consciousness,  the  will,  the  feeling  of  duty  or  fear, 
Of  the  particular  citizen."  —  Sigwart,  quoted  by  Professor  Tufts, 


The  Social  Member:  the  Person  59 

as  son,  brother,  husband,  or  father.  He  attends  the  annual 
meeting  of  the  family  stock, —  the  Browns  or  Smiths,  the  de- 
scendants of  some  Norman  chief  or  pioneer  of  the  Mayflower. 
He  gives  receptions  to  his  neighbors,  although  the  companies 
are  composed  of  persons  of  many  different  families,  churches, 
and  parties,  just  because  they  are  neighbors  and  friends.  He 
may  be  a  banker  and  belong  to  a  bankers'  club  in  the  city, 
and  yet  as  director  or  stockholder  be  associated  with  twenty 
corporations,  unions,  and  mutual  benefit  organizations.  One 
may  belong  to  the  "upper  four  hundred,"  and  have  his  name 
in  the  Blue  Book  to  mark  his  social  rank.  He  may  also  have 
his  circle  of  congenial  friends  and  meet  regularly  with  them 
for  amusement  and  recreation.  If  you  touch  his  philosophy, 
you  may  find  he  holds  with  Kantians  or  Hegelians,  or  is  a 
disciple  of  Spencer.  He  has  a  name  in  politics, —  Repub- 
lican, Democrat,  or  Mugwump.  When  he  goes  to  his  church, 
he  finds  that  a  democratic  Hegelian  is  at  his  right,  a  single- 
tax  admirer  of  Wordsworth  is  on  his  left,  and  a  high -church 
reader  of  Walter  Scott  is  behind  him.  By  race  he  is  connected 
with  Irish  and  German  peoples;  his  mother  tongue  is  English, 
and  he  has  acquired  French  and  Italian.  Thus  a  single  citizen 
may  be  so  variously  related  that  the  threads  of  society  are 
woven  into  his  inmost  soul,  and  he  himself  serves  to  weave  a 
thousand  others  into  the  tapestry  of  the  community  life. 

VII.  The  Value  of  the  Individual  to  Society  as  Means,  and 
his  Social  and  Personal  Worth  as  End  in  Himself.  — The  in- 
dividual is  the  end  of  social  organization  and  yet  finds  his  true 
and  larger  self,  his  culture,  and  his  satisfaction  only  in  society. 
The  institutions  of  society  which  we  are  to  study  are  not 
created  for  their  own  sakes,  nor  for  some  vague  abstraction 
called  the  state,  but  for  persons  who  can  enjoy  them  and  get 
good  from  them.  Some  writers  have  declared  that  if  there 
were  only  one  man  on  earth,  there  would  be  no  science  of 
sociology.  Very  true.  It  would  also  be  true  that  if  there 
were  only  one  man  on  the  earth,  there  would  not  be  any  other 
science,  nor  art,  nor  interest.  But  the  supposition  is  pure 
chimera.  There  never  was  such  a  creature,  such  a  monster,  as 
the  isolated  man.  Even  Robinson  Crusoe  was  not  a  solitary, 
for  he  carried  with  him  the  tools  and  weapons  of  civilization, 


6o  Social  Elements 


and  bore  in  his  own  brain  and  memory  the  gathered  results  of 
social  cooperation  of  the  ages  whose  riches  he  inherited. 
His  own  nervous  system  and  his  intellect  were  social  products 
of  European  life.  Society  could  not  exist  without  people,  and 
people  are  by  nature  sociable.  It  is  a  waste  of  effort  and 
words  to  attempt  to  think  them  apart  and  wonder  what  would 
become  of  our  study  if  every  person  tried  to  live  in  an  air- 
tight bottle.  Of  course  the  forest  would  disappear  with  the 
trees,  but  each  tree  is  itself  child  of  the  forest.  The  cells 
and  tissues  of  the  body  make  the  body  possible,  but  what 
would  a  hermit  cell  or  separated  eye  become  without  the  body? 

The  Worth  of  the  Individual.  —  We  can  get  no  large  sum  by 
adding  millions  of  zeros  together.  A  mountain  of  corals  has 
not  in  it  one  thought  beyond  coral  instincts.  Wliat  gives  dig- 
nity and  worth  to  mankind  is  the  nature  of  its  members.  Here 
we  pass  beyond  what  is  called  "science,"  to  a  truth  which 
rests  on  beliefs.  The  beliefs  which  give  worth  to  the  indi- 
vidual man  are  those  which  relate  him  in  our  thoughts  with 
God,  the  eternal  life,  with  immortality  as  the  limitless  sphere 
of  his  development,  and  with  duty  as  his  endless  task.  Take 
these  beliefs  away  and  the  individual  shrivels  and  becomes 
akin  to  what  is  beneath  him  more  than  to  what  is  above  him, 
and  invites  him  upward.  I  am  quite  aware  that  a  belief  like 
this  cannot  be  "proved  "  in  the  same  sense  that  we  can  demon- 
strate a  law  of  chemistry  or  a  fact  in  biology.  But  the  ground 
of  ultimate  certainty  of  these  sciences  is  not  in  themselves, 
but  in  some  form  of  belief  in  our  own  intelligence,  in  the  uni- 
formity of  law,  in  the  veracity  of  our  senses  and  of  our  logical 
faculties. 

Indeed,  it  would  seem  that  even  those  who  deny  the  reli- 
gious view  of  life  and  the  world,  when  they  devote  themselves 
to  the  pursuit  and  discovery  of  what  yet  lies  beyond  knowl- 
edge, are  acting  on  the  same  theory  on  which  the  devout  man 
prays  and  hopes  and  aspires.  The  chemist  declares  by  his 
acts,  whatever  his  professed  creed  may  be,  that  this  world  is 
built  on  truth,  that  it  will  not  put  our  intellect  to  confusion, 
that  it  will  show  itself  veracious  and  reliable.  As  bees  work 
to  an  end  without  comprehending  the  end,  and  as  migratory 
birds  fly  toward  a  land  which  they  have  never  seen,  impelled 


The  Social  Member:  the  Person  61 

by  a  trustworthy  instinct,  so  men  of  science  reveal  a  devotion, 
a  spirit  of  sacrifice  which  is  touched  with  religious  quality. 
Only  too  often  this  martyrdom  is  not  appreciated  by  men  who 
call  themselves  religious,  and  it  is  not  fully  understood  even 
by  many  who  endure  it. 

Man  is 

"  crown'd  with  attributes  of  woe 
Like  glories,  move  his  course,  and  show 
That  life  is  not  an  idle  ore, 

"  But  iron  dug  from  central  gloom, 

And  heated  hot  with  burning  fears, 
And  dipt  in  baths  of  hissing  tears, 
And  batter'd  with  the  shocks  of  doom 

"  To  shape  and  use.     Arise  and  fly 

The  reeling  Faun,  the  sensual  feast; 
Move  upward,  working  out  the  beast, 
And  let  the  ape  and  tiger  die." — Tennyson. 

Man's  sense  of  worth  comes  largely  from  his  hope  and  faith. 
Our  social  estimate  of  man,  apart  from  the  outward  recom- 
mendations of  wealth  and  position  and  intellectual  achieve- 
ment, must  rest  on  some  forward-looking  belief  in  respect  to 
his  place  in  eternity.  The  obscure  and  poor  and  weak  are 
likely  to  be  despised  and  trampled  as  mere  things  unless  there 
is  diffused  in  society  some  ideal  of  them  yet  to  be  realized 
under  more  favorable  conditions.  Knowledge,  science,  can- 
not affirm  our  vast  estimates  of  man's  worth,  but  the  hope 
itself  is  an  earthly  fact.  Tennyson  was  not  singing  to  a  deaf 
nation  when  he  voiced  this  belief:  — 

"  I  trust  I  have  not  wasted  breath ; 
I  think  we  are  not  wholly  brain, 
Magnetic  mockeries;    not  in  vain; 
Like  Paul  with  beasts,  I  fought  with  death; 

"  Not  only  cunning  casts  in  clay  : 

Let  Science  prove  we  are,  and  then, 
What  matters  Science  unto  men, 
At  least  to  me?     I  would  not  stay." 


PART    III 

SOCIAL   INSTITUTIONS 


CHAPTER   IV 
THE   FAMILY 

The  Social  World  in   Miniature 

"  God  give  you  in  requital  all  the  amends 
Your  heart  can  wish,  a  husband,  family, 
And  good  agreement.     Naught  beneath  the  sky 
More  sweet,  more  worthy  is,  than  firm  consent 
Of  man  and  wife  in  household  government." 

—  Chapman's  Homer. 

If  any  social  institutions  could  stand  alone,  it  would  be  the 
family.  There  are  found  all  the  elements  for  the  satisfaction 
of  individual  wants  and  provision  for  the  continuance  of  the 
human  species.  There  are  the  most  tender  and  sacred  affec- 
tions, the  most  beautiful  hopes,  the  most  intense  interests. 
Think  of  the  home  upon  a  Western  prairie,  far  from  ci'ties 
and  distant  even  from  neighbors.  Out  on  the  wind-swept 
plain,  where  the  fierce  and  frosty  blizzard  howls  wolfishly  at 
the  door,  the  cheerful  fire  of  the  living-room,  the  bright  com- 
panionship of  loved  ones  bid  defiance  to  nature  and  assure  trie 
essentials  of  human  joy.  There  is  aged  grandmother  in  the^ 
warmest  corner,  representative  of  the  venerable  Past,  her  head 
full  of  history.  At  the  table  are  masterful  father  and  gentle,^ 
tactful  mother,  planning  campaigns  for  the  spring,  busy  with 
thought  for  those  who  look  trustfully  to  them  for  the  means  oj 

62 


The  Social  World  in  Miniature  63 

life.  The  parents  are  the  grand  Present  in  heroic  mould. 
The  boisterous  Future  is  romping  on  the  floor,  in  the  persons 
of  lusty  children.  The  infants  are  buds  of  opening  flowers, 
the  heralds  of  a  new  order. 

/.  The  House.  — The  dwelling  is  the  visible  structure  which 
reveals  in  its  very  form  and  appearance  its  adjustment  to 
family  needs.  It  is  not  a  member  of  the  family  but  it  is 
humanized  matter,  and  becomes  the  symbol  of  all  hallowed 
memories.  It  has  grown  out  of  man's  wit  and  serves  his  ends. 
Man  on  the  frontier  wants  protection  Tfom  wild  beasts  and 
savage  men,  and  the  house  becomes  a  fortress,  a  castle.  In 
the  calm  days  of  peace  the  walls  are  still  a  defence  against 
excessive  cold  and  heat.  The  furniture  provides  for  rest  in 
sleep,  for  the  distribution  of  food,  for  congenial  intercourse 
in  friendly  conversation.  The  clock  keeps  time  with  sun  and 
stars  and  with  the  movements  of  mankind.  The  roof  does 
more  than  shed  rain,  for  form  and  ornament  of  gable  and  cor- 
nice gratify  aesthetic  feeling.  The  walls  are  covered  with 
pictured  paper  or  delicate  tints,  while  framed  engravings, 
photographs,  and  colored  prints  minister  in  humblest  homes 
to  the  sense  of  beauty. 

The  house  has  had  a  history.  The  lowest  races  of  men  live 
in  the  open  air,  like  monkeys,  where  the  climate  is  warm  and 
friendly.  Hollow  trees,  natural  caves,  or  caverns  dug  with 
rude  implements  out  of  the  hillside,  serve  for  shelter  and  rest. 
Huts  of  bark  and  conical  tents  of  skin  may  still  be  seen  among 
the  more  backward  Indians.  In  Northern  Michigan  the  scat- 
tered groups  of  aborigines  still  prefer  to  dwell  in  such  primi- 
tive lodges  rather  than  in  close  and  stifling  houses.  Those 
tribes  which  have  advanced  to  the  weaving  art  may  use  some 
cloth  material  for  their  temporary  covering.  As  settlements 
are  effected,  unburnt  clay  and  stone  may  be  piled  up  to  form 
walls,  the  roof  being  branches  of  trees,  grass,  or  clay.  The 
history  of  architecture  enables.us  to  follow  the  details  of  style 
and  fashion  in  all  lands  and  ages.  We  thus  see  that  the  house 
has  a  history.     It  will  change  in  the  future. 

One  of  the  most  marked  differences  between  town  and 
country,  between  past  and  present,  lies  in  the  arrangement  of 
dwellings.      In  great  cities   it  is  seldom  possible  to  own  a 


64  •  Social  Elements 


separate  house.  Land  is  costly  and  taxes  are  high.  Tier 
above  tier,  the  city  families  live  in  lofty  and  crowded  hives  or 
in  fashionable  hotels.  House  building  follows  the  order  of 
consolidation  and  cooperation.  Isolation  is  more  and  more 
difficult.  Privacy  is  disturbed.  Very  often  there  is  no  suit- 
able provision  for  children,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  board- 
ing-house and  hotel  life  is  responsible  for  a  dangerous  decrease 
in  the  number  of  children  born  and  reared. 

II.  Housekeeping  was  the  Primitive  Industry.  —  The  word 
"economics"  means  simply  the  art  of  the  house.1  All 
social  industries  are  specialized  housekeeping,  carried  out  on 
the  grand  scale.  The  earliest  industry  was  the  finding,  gath- 
ering, and  preparation  of  food.  There  is  an  art  which  does 
not  threaten  to  become  obsolete.  Nutrition  conditions  spir- 
itual life  and  all  else. 

What  will  the  future  bring?  It  is  no  longer  common  in 
town  houses  to  preserve  meat,  vegetables,  and  fruit.  Large 
factories  can  pickles  and  fruits.  Bakeries  furnish  bread  and 
cakes,  more  or  less  digestible  and  wholesome,  for  the  table. 
We  are  slowly  getting  away  from  kitchens.  Public  establish- 
ments are  drawing  to  themselves  functions  once  performed  by 
the  members  of  the  household. 

The  making  and  mending  of  clothing  has  always  been  a 
household  industry.  Clothing  for  protection  and  for  orna- 
ment was  long  a  part  of  women's  work.  Among  lower  races 
it  has  ever  been  so.  The  ladi'es  of  ancient  classic  lands  were 
often  represented  in  works  of  art  with  spindle  and  distaff. 
The  ideal  Hebrew  woman,  described  by  the  Book  of  Proverbs, 
looked  carefully  after  the  garments  of  her  charge.  In  our 
own  country  gradual  changes  have  been  going  forward.  Wool 
and  flax,  the  materials  for  clothing,  are  no  longer,  as  with 
our  ancestors,  prepared  for  use  in  the  course  of  domestic  life, 
but  theii  manufacture  has  become  almost  entirely  a  public 
industry.     These  illustrations  reveal  a  social  tendency. 

III.  The  Personal  Organization  o/t/ie  Home.  —  By  courtship 
and  marriage,  two  friends,  a  man  and  a  woman,  found  a  new 
household.  But  there  is  no  complete  family  until  at  least  two 
children  are  born.     Marriage  and  family  are  not  synonymous. 

1  Aristotle,  Politics,  1,  19,  Jowett's  translation. 


TJie  Social    World  in  Miniature  65 

The  man  becomes  a  father,  the  woman  becomes  a  mother, 
and  then  they  are  conscious  of  new  powers,  new  faculties, 
deeper  forces,  and  larger  motives.  Other  persons,  as  grand- 
parents, dependent  relatives,  domestic  help,  boarders;  may 
come  into  very  close  relations  with  the  household,  but  they 
are  not  essential  members  of  the  family. 

IV.  The  Care  of  Children  is  one  of  the  Functions  of  the 
Family.  — ■  Future  citizens  are  nourished,  protected,  nursed  in 
sickness,  taught  the  first  lessons  in  friendly  cooperation,  fitted 
for  social  life,  within  the  home,  T%e~spf ritual  culture  ot  the' 
liousehrrrd:  is  one  of  its  highest -uses.  The  first  elements  of 
knowledge  of  objects  in  nature,  of  plants  and  animals,  of  earth 
and  sky,  of  social  relations,  of  music  and  poetry,  of  religion 
and  patriotism,  are  communicated  by  parents  and  companions 
even  before  the  kindergarten  age.  Mothers  and  fathers,  if 
they  have  suitable  education  and  are  intellectually  alive,  can 
assist  their  children  to  store  the  memory  with  a  multitude  of 
pictured  impressions  of  stones,  soils,  clouds,  rain,  plants,  ele- 
ments of  food,  animals,  and  types  of  human  beings.  Here 
is  laid  the  foundation  for  later  systematic  studies  of  chemis- 
try, physics,  botany,  astronomy,  zoology,  biology.  Parents 
can  encourage  children  to  make  collections  of  leaves,  pressed 
flowers  and  roots,  sections  of  woods,  fossils,  insects, — and 
they  are  wisest  who  teach  them  to  do  this  without  inflicting 
pain  on  any  sentient  creature.  Simple  experiments  with 
light,  heat,  and  electricity  are  within  the  reach  of  moderate 
means  and  knowledge. 

It  is  from  imitation  of  parents  and  playmates  that  children 
learn  the  wonderful  art  which  binds  man  to  man,  race  to  race, 
and  present  with  past  and  future, —  the  art  of  language.  Be- 
ginning with  inarticulate  cries  of  pain,  hunger,  and  loneliness, 
the  infant  advances  in  its  first  years  to  acquire  the  product  of 
race  struggles  of  centuries.  With  the  assistance  of  the  social 
experience  of  the  home  the  baby  leaps  over  aeons  while  it  is 
learning  by  imitation.  It  hears  the  language  of  the  house,  — 
the  "mother  tongue."  If  the  language  is  German,  French, 
or  English,  it  is  copied,  word  for  word,  accent  for  accent, 
gesture  for  gesture.  If  the  language  offered  as  example  is 
rude,  coarse,  with  scanty  vocabulary  pieced  out  with  signs  and 

F 


66  Social  Elements 


slang,  with  defiling  expressions  and  debasing  images,  that  is 
the  foul  matter  which  goes  into  the  young  mind.  This  fact 
is  of  supreme  importance  in  education.  When  a  child  comes 
to  school,  his  habits  of  speech  have  already  been  formed. 
If  they  are  wrong,  it  is  hard  to  break  them  down,  sweep  them 
out,  and  build  up  new  habits.  Sometimes  the  articulation  is 
so  indistinct  that  the  boy  is  not  able  to  make  himself  under- 
stood, and  sometimes  he  has  a  voice  so  elegant  and  refined  as 
to  make  the  simplest  expressions  give  pleasure. 

The  range  of  knowledge  of  nature,  man,  history,  and  litera- 
ture will  be  determined  largely  by  the  topics  of  the  table  and 
of  familiar  conversation.  The  sentiments  and  beliefs,  the 
religious  ideas,  the  moral  ideals,  the  history  of  heroes  for 
imitation,  are  all  furnished  in  great  measure  by  parents. 
Etiquette,  forms  of  courtesy,  modes  of  dress,  care  of  the  per- 
son, and  consideration  for  the  rights  and  feelings  of  neighbors 
are  home  products.  The  home  is  the  real  primary  school, 
the  original  temple,  the  first  government.  Within  its  narrow 
walls  may  be  a  company  of  young  actors  whose  hourly  play, 
whose  fanciful  pursuits  and  activities,  take  them  through  the 
range  of  individual  types  and  social  occupations.  Watch  this 
wayward  and  varied  journey  of  the  grave  child:  inventor, 
composer,  draughtsman,  painter,  orator,  preacher,  nurse,  sol- 
dier, horseman,  bandit,  musician, —  undifferentiated  and  raw 
material  for  anything.  The  child  tries  all  experiments,  tests 
his  powers  on  each  particular  trade  and  calling  in  turn,  and 
out  of  this  world  of  possibilities  finds  at  last  his  own  place 
and  part. 

It  is  very  evident  that  this  social  situation  defines  the  duties 
of  parents  and  shows  the  nature  of  the  education  which  fathers 
and  mothers  should  have  for  the  due  performance  of  their 
sacred  office.  The  highest  degree  given  by  universities  does 
not  represent  superfluous  knowledge.  All  sciences  and  all  arts 
would  be  worthily  employed  in  mother  work. 

V.  The  Domestic  Republic.  — The  first  experience  of  social 
regulation  comes  with  the  discipline  and  government  of  the 
family.  At  first  the  infant  is  restrained  from  acts  which  would 
injure  or  destroy  it,  by  physical  force,  if  necessary.  Later  a 
command  maybe  understood,  or  a  loving  request,  having  back 


The  Social   World  in  Miniature  67 

of  the  word  authority  and  power.  When  we  look  over  the 
course  of  domestic  discipline  for  many  years,  we  can  discover 
tolerably  distinct  evidence  of  household  legislation,  adminis- 
tration, and  sanction, —  the  apparatus  of  a  government.  It  is 
Dot  often  that  the  rules  are  printed  and  posted  on  door  or 
bulletin-board.  The  orders  in  council  are  issued  on  occasion. 
Parents  are  not  aware  that  they  are  day  by  day  framing  a  legal 
code  of  wide  extent.  Hut  it  is  true  and  significant.  It  was 
thus  the  earliest  laws  of  mankind  were  made,  as  accident 
decided,  as  difficulties  arose.  The  fragmentary  edicts  of  the 
family  emperor  and  empress  are  collected  in  the  memories  of 
parents  and  children.  The  decision  of  yesterday  is  made  the 
precedent  for  an  appeal  to-day  to  settle  a  dispute  about  a  doll 
or  a  wagon.  Ownership  or  use  of  playthings,  articles  of  cloth- 
ing, or  a  garden  space  may  be  fixed  by  a  rule  which  holds 
from  infancy  to  manhood. 

This  collection  of  unwritten  laws  covers  rights  of  person 
and  rights  over  things,  the  relations  of  parents  to  children 
and  of  brother  to  sister.  If  it  were  all  written  out,  the  code 
would  fill  a  book.  It  regulates  the  time  and  quantity  and 
quality  of  eating,  the  hours  of  sleep,  dressing,  bathing,  and 
all  physical  habits.  The  jealous  sense  of  property  manifests 
itself  even  in  infancy,  and  leads  to  mimic  war  when  cherished 
articles  are  wrongfully  taken  away.  It  covers  the  case  of  games 
and  insures  "fair  play."  It  brings  attack  and  defence  under 
the  modifying  influence  of  public  rule,  with  appeal  to  the 
crowned  heads  in  case  of  misunderstanding.  Before  the 
supreme  court  at  mother's  sewing-table  the  controversy  is 
argued  out  with  lawyer's  logic,  and  a  favorable  decision  is 
often  invoked  with  tears  and  sobs  for  dramatic  effect.  In 
table  and  parlor  etiquette,  the  mode  of  eating  and  sitting,  of 
salutation  and  reception,  of  asking  and  answering,  is  com- 
pletely regulated  by  the  code  current.  Thus  also  studies  and 
religious  practices  are  made  to  conform  to  a  law.  The  judges 
and  administrators  of  household*  codes  are  the  parents.  The 
advocates  are  the  children  themselves.  They  have  no  use  for 
hired  attorneys.  The  procedure  is  summary,  and  decisions 
of  appeals  are  usually  announced  at  the  time  of  the  plea. 

And  as  for  sanctions,  they  are  all  the  hopes  and  fears,  the 


68       *  Social  Elements 


affections  and  attachments,  the  habits  of  thought  and  feeling, 
the  customary  ways  of  the  home.  Penalties  and  rewards  are 
both  employed.  In  fortunate  instances,  where  skill  and  tact 
are  possessed  in  high  degree,  resort  to  physical  pain  is  reduced 
to  a  minimum. 

VI.  Social  Regulation  of  the  Family.  —  When  we  look  at  the 
isolated  home,  we  can  regard  it  as  making  its  own  rules  and 
doing  its  own  will.  But  when  we  take  a  wider  view,  we  dis- 
cover that  each  family  is  one  of  many  families  living  in  con- 
nection on  the  same  territory.  The  people  of  a  neighborhood 
or  of  a  "flat"  are  not  likely  to  permit  a  family  to  do  as  it 
pleases,  if  it  does  not  please  to  regard  the  common  belief  and 
interest.  If  a  father  neglects  to  support  his  children  or  to 
educate  them,  others  suffer,  and  the  community  is  burdened. 
If  a  man  divorces  his  wife  and  leaves  her  without  means,  per- 
haps with  broken  health  and  helpless  babes,  he  injures  society. 
Therefore  in  all  ages  communities  have  been  compelled  to 
make  laws  relating  to  marriage,  divorce,  support  of  children, 
and  all  the  interior  habits  of  the  household. 

If  we  ask  after  the  origin  of  these  household  codes,  we  dis- 
cover that,  while  they  are  in  the  home,  they  did  not  first  arise 
there.  Looking  a  little  further,  we  are  struck  with  the  fact 
that  in  the  same  country  or  community  or  class  of  society  there 
is  a  very  great  similarity  in  the  laws  which  parents  make  and 
enforce.  What  does  this  mean?  Chiefly  this,  that  the  family 
itself  is  a  part  of  surrounding  society,  that  its  laws  and  customs 
are  social  products.  The  young  mother,  a  mere  girl,  begins 
to  rule  her  child  from  the  start  much  as  her  mother  had  ruled 
her.  If  she  seeks  to  be  too  original,  and  the  neighbors  hear 
of  it,  they  are  apt  to  send  hornets  of  censorious  remarks  to 
trouble  her.  These  rules  are  traditions,  or  even  instincts, 
with  parents.  They  are  not  thought  out  to  suit  the  circum- 
stances, in  the  main,  but  simply  express  the  social  way  of 
regarding  life.  They  are  handed  down  by  social  inheritance, 
diffused  by  imitation,  enforced  by  public  opinion. 

VII.  The  Family  holds  a  Distinct  and  Unique  Place  among 
Social  Institutions.  —  It  is  not  to  be  classed  directly  with  state, 
church,  school,  and  industrial  organizations.  Some  kind  of 
a  pairing  arose  before  the  times  of  authentic  history,  and  may 


The  Social    World  in  Miniature  69 

be  found  among  other  living  beings, — plants  and  animals.  In 
origin  the  family  differs  from  other  social  institutions,  because 
it  has  its  rise  in  simple,  direct,  and  primitive  attraction  of 
men  and  women  for  each  other,  and  in  the  vague  parental 
instincts  which  yearn  for  the  presence  of  children,  and  which 
protect  and  nourish  them  when  they  come  into  life.  It  is 
true  that  the  family  gathers  to  itself  other  sentiments  and 
attractive  bonds.  As  human  beings  widen  the  range  of  their 
interests  and  become  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  science  or 
art;  as  they  improve  in  taste  and  culture;  as  they  come  to 
paint  pictures  and  carve  in  wood  and  marble;  as  they  learn  to 
like  books  and  noble  conversation;  as  they  enlarge  religious 
thoughts  and  make  the  world's  wide  activities  their  own  con- 
cern,—  all  these  subjects  will  be  brought  home  and  will  add  to 
the  daily  occupations  which  make  the  hearth  the  centre  of  all 
the  soul's  pleasures.  But  the  essential  and  initial  impulses 
are  very  lowly  and  simple. 
^Thus  the  family  is  not  a  product  of  society  in  the  begin- 
ning, but  it  produces  general  society.  The  race  comes  into 
being  through  the  domestic  institution.  Other  institutions, 
as  they  arise,  react  upon  this  primitive  association,  but  they 
could  not  produce  it. 

The  organizations  arise  out  of  very  complex  wants.  The 
industrial  system  has  grown  up  in  order  to  supply  the  material 
means  for  satisfying  all  human  wants.  The  state  has  grown 
out  of  needs  of  defence,  ambition  for  power  and  territory,  the 
desire  for  an  organ  for  securing  order,  education,  and  the  con- 
venience of  civilized  life.  The  family  came  before  all  these, 
and  supplied  the  foundation  on  which  they  could  be  built. 

The  family  differs  essentially  from  all  other  associations  in 
the  fact  that  its  members  have  their  place  denned  by  their 
physical  and  spiritual  nature.  Thus  the  wife  and  mother  can- 
not change  places  with  the  father;  the  children  are  what  they 
are  because  they  are  dependent  and  undeveloped.  But  in  the 
industrial  system  one  person  may  occupy  at  various  times 
several  positions  and  offices,  as  laborer,  foreman,  messenger, 
master,  owner.  And  in  the  church  a  man  may  be  transferred 
from  office  to  office  according  to  changing  circumstances  or 
his  growth  in  adaptations. 


JO  Social  Elements 


It  follows  from  all  this  that  the  form  of  the  family  is  more 
fixed  and  unchanging  than  is  true  of  other  institutions.  From 
the  earliest  time  the  essential  form  of  the  family  has  been  that 
of  the  union  of  two  parents  with  the  children.  It  is  true  that 
this  union  has  varied  in  duration  from  a  short  period  of  days 
to  lifelong  companionship.  It  is  true  that  polygamy,  in  vari- 
ous modes,  has  been  common  in  many  lands  and  ages.  It  is 
true  that  divorce  has  often  made  changes  of  husbands  and 
wives  frequent  in  varying  degrees.  But  through  all  these 
changes  the  essential  form  of  the  family  has  been  preserved, 
and  the  form  of  permanent  union  of  one  man  with  one  woman, 
together  with  their  children,  has  come  to  be  protected  by  the 
innate  instincts  of  the  higher  races. 

There  is  no  other  institution,  and  never  can  be  one,  which 
can  so  nearly  satisfy  all  the  essential  desires  and  affections  of 
men  as  the  domestic  group. 

Another  important  distinction  is  to  be  noted :  there  are  few 
states,  churches,  and  schools  where  there  are  multitudes  of 
families.  It  is  essential  to  the  family  that  it  should  be  small. 
We  shall  never  have  a  domestic  "trust." 

VIII.  Relation  of  the  Family  to  Social  Order  and  Progress. 
—  The  family  is  conservative  of  all  social  possessions.  Prop- 
erty is  acquired  and  held  by  families  from  the  strongest  and 
most  enduring  of  motives.  The  title  to  a  large  part  of  the 
world's  wealth  descends  from  parents  to  children,  because  the 
universal  instinct  of  civilized  parents,  itself  the  product  of- 
ages  of  domestic  affections,  from  savage  to  modern,  is  to  care 
for  offspring.  This  instinct  is  not  always  entirely  reasonable 
or  wisely  manifested.  It  sometimes  sacrifices  substance  to 
shadow  and  prompts  the  transmission  of  property  to  incom- 
petent, indolent,  wasteful,  and  dissolute  children.  The  right 
of  bequest  is  not  to  be  thought  of  as  absolute,  since  wealth  is 
a  social  product  and  a  social  interest,  and  must  be  guarded 
from  abuse  and  dissipation.  But  after  all,  wealth  has  been 
accumulated  and  added  to  the  sum  of  common  resources 
because  of  those  parental  affections  and  interests  which  ap- 
pear in  the  transmission  of  property. 

Also  in  and  through  the  family  is  there  a  conservation  and 
preservation  of  spiritual  goods,  their  symbols  and  their  mate- 


The  Social  World  in  Miniature  ?i 

rial  embodiments.  Thoughts,  forms  of  knowledge,  books, 
proverbs  of  the  wise,  maxims  of  concentrated  race  experience, 
are  treasured  in  family  life.  Home  libraries,  coins,  furni- 
ture, pictures,  manuscripts,  letters,  diaries,  account-books,  are 
among  the  means  by  which  social  goods  of  the  spiritual  order 
are  kept  from  the  tooth  of  time. 

IX.  The  Family  is  the  Primary  Agency  of  Society  for  securing 
New  Beginnings,  Variations  from  the  Old,  Chances  of  Improve- 
ment in  Persons  and  Ideas. — This  introduction  of  new  ele- 
ments, giving  starting-points  for  progress,  happens  first  of  all 
from  the  consequences  of  pairing.  Parents  come  together 
from  unlike  stocks.  Their  children  are  not  exactly  like  either 
of  them.  There  is  a  family  likeness,  it  is  true,  but  there  is 
also  a  difference.  The  better  form  is  likely  to  be  favored 
when  it  comes  into  existence.  The  more  vigorous,  more 
beautiful,  more  intellectual,  are  endowed  for  the  struggle  of 
life  with  superior  equipment.  Differences  in  body  and  mind 
come  from  causes  which  are  now  carefully  studied  by  biolo- 
gists. It  is  in  the  crossing  of  persons  from  various  families 
that  these  new  varieties  appear. 

It  is  within  the  family  that  ideas  are  debated,  new  plans 
are  struck  out,  discussed,  and  tried.  Every  infant  is  a  dis- 
coverer, finding  a  new  world.  The  new  tooth,  the  new  shoes, 
the  new  pain,  the  new  pleasure,  are  disclosures  which  pique 
curiosity  and  lure  the  traveller  onward.  Here  is  set  up  a 
habit  of  investigation,  which  endures  through  life. 

X.  Perils  of  the  Family  and  Modes  of  Amelioration.  — 
First  of  all,  as  to  marriage  and  its  consequences.  Observing 
persons  have  noted  the  too  great  frequency  of  premature  mar- 
riages, "child  marriages,"  as  they  are  aptly  called.  Medical 
authority  of  the  highest  order  gives  warning  that  physical  injury 
must  follow  the  marriage  of  adolescent  persons;  nervous  dis- 
eases arise;  the  offspring  start  in  life  with  inferior  physical 
powers  and  stunted  members  and  defective  tissues;  the  disci- 
pline of  self-control  is  too  early  suspended;  the  poor  family  is 
burdened  with  children  before  it  can  provide  suitable  food 
and  care  for  them;  society  is  taxed  for  an  increase  of  the 
pauper  brood;  discouragement  and  neglect,  bred  of  despera- 
tion, lead  to  separation  and  divorce,  after  bitter  dissension; 


72  Social  Elements 


and  social  unrest  and  rebellious  dispositions  are  the  certain 
accompaniments  of  the  decline  of  well-being. 

On  the  other  hand,  observers  and  statisticians  note  the  fact 
that  others  neglect  marriage  or  defer  it  to  an  age  at  which 
family  relations  are  not  easily  established  with  the  best  indi- 
vidual and  social  results. 

Among  the  "proletariat,"  the  reckless  poor,  there  are  too 
many  children;  while  thousands  of  those  who  are  best  able 
to  support  children  have  none.  In  France  the  population  is 
almost  stationary.  In  the  United  States  the  average  size  of 
the  family  is  declining.  Probably  many  causes  contribute  to 
this  tendency:  the  increasing  love  of  luxury,  unwillingness  to 
fall  below  the  customary  rate  of  expense,  the  desire  to  see 
their  children  enjoy  even  greater  advantages,  perhaps  even  a 
loss  of  care  for  what  becomes  of  future  society  if  the  present 
is  made  to  yield  all  the  enjoyments  possible  to  extract  from  it. 
At  any  rate,  the  fact  deserves  study,  and  gives  occasion  for 
serious  reflection.  No  general  and  ethical  law,  binding  on 
each  particular  case,  can  be  announced. 

One  of  the  most  dangerous  elements  is  the  unhistoric  and 
anti-social  theory  of  the  family  which  is  frequently  urged  and 
has  gained  wide  popularity:  the  theory  that  marriage  is  a 
merely  private  affair,  and  should  not  continue  under  the  regu- 
lative influence  of  social  censure  or  legislative  enactments. 
At  present,  society  governs  marriage  relations  on  the  theory 
that  it  is,  once  formed,  a  public  interest.  No  one  can  be 
constrained  to  enter  marriage,  and  free  choice  is  of  the  essence 
of  the  institution.  But  when  the  man  and  woman  have  once 
become  wedded,  the  social  interest  is  very  great.  At  that  in- 
stant society  must  protect  the  property  rights  of  each,  as  it 
need  not  do  before.  The  care  of  children  devolves  upon  the 
state  in  case  of  neglect  to  provide  or  in  case  of  separation  and 
divorce.  Only  when  society  consents  to  act  as  artificial  nurse 
for  all  children  in  minority  can  it  consent  to  relieve  married 
persons  of  responsibility  to  each  other  after  marriage.  It  is 
true  that  there  are  cases  where  it  would  be  gross  wrong  to 
continue  in  this  relation,  for  man  or  woman,  and  for  such 
extreme  cases  law  must  provide.  Society  cannot  escape  from 
the  necessity  of  regulation,  even  at  risk  of  error.     But  the  ex- 


TJic  Social   World  in  Miniature  73 

treme  facility  of  desertion  and  divorce  seems  to  excite  a  volatile 
and  frivolous  temper,  to  exaggerate  the  incitements  to  wan- 
dering desire,  and  to  present  the  thought  of  abandonment  as 
something  not  falling  under  the  just  censure  of  the  community. 
A  loose  and  easy  moral  theory  intensifies  these  savage  dispo- 
sitions and  justifies  them  by  a  sort  of  moral  philosophy. 

Defective  housing  is  the  source  of  many  evils.  Every 
citizen,  by  the  study  of  good  houses,  should  erect  in  his  mind 
at  least  a  minimum  standard  of  decency,  health,  and  spiritual 
welfare,  by  which  to  judge  and  condemn  unfit  habitations. 
This  criterion  must  first  of  all  include  the  demands  of  hygiene, 
as  laid  down  in  books  on  public  health.  The  cities  of  this 
country  frequently  publish  handbooks  for  their  building  in- 
spectors, which  give  minute  and  complete  details  in  respect 
to  the  cellar,  walls,  drains,  plumbing,  closets,  windows,  venti- 
lation, cubic  space  in  relation  to  occupants,  surface  of  lot  that 
may  be  covered,  space  reserved  for  light  and  ventilation,  wall 
paper,  distance  between  buildings,  and  all  the  necessary  con- 
ditions of  health. 

But  to  these  essential  requirements,  these  merely  animal 
demands,  should  be  added  a  minimum  of  aesthetic  provision, 
since  morals  and  taste  are  closely  connected.  Compared  with 
such  a  moderate  standard,  many  houses  fall  far  short.  In  the 
country  the  laws  of  health  are  frequently  violated,  but  there  is 
at  least  plenty  of  fresh  air  and  oceans  of  sunshine.  There  the 
problem  of  disposing  of  decaying,  poisonous  waste  is  compara- 
tively simple,  because  the  earth  soon  transforms  the  most 
offensive  matter  into  plant  food  if  the  waste  is  buried  near  the 
surface.  But  in  the  cities  the  situation  is  different.  There 
one  finds  families  crowded  into  one  or  two  rooms,  where 
modesty  and  health  require  four  or  five  rooms.  Ignorance  and 
greed,  along  with  the  helplessness  of  abject  poverty,  are  to 
blame  for  the  windowless  dark  dens  where  multitudes  of  human 
beings  are  condemned  to  dwell,  quarters  less  favorable  to  com- 
fort than  the  cells  of  penitentiaries. 

Maladjustme?its  of  the  Family  to  Econo?nic  Life.  —  We 
should  trace  the  domestic  results  of  inadequate  wages  of  the 
natural  breadwinner  of  the  household.  If  the  earnings  of  the 
father  fall  short  of  supplying  the  means  of  physical  existence, 


74  Social  Elements 


with  a  margin  for  human  culture  and  enjoyment,  then  one  of 
two  effects  must  follow:  either  the  family  is  physically  and 
spiritually  starved,  or  the  mother  and  children  must  assist  in 
labor  to  make  the  living.  It  is  not  generally  understood 
among  fairly  well  fed  people  that  starvation  diseases  are  very 
common  among  the  very  poor.  The  most  evident  effects  of 
insufficient  food  and  clothing  and  fuel  are  seen  in  the  case  of 
young  children,  with  whom  the  rate  of  mortality  in  such  con- 
ditions is  very  high.  Most  pitiful  illustrations  of  starvation 
may  be  seen  at  hospitals  in  the  children  whose  crooked  legs 
and  distorted  spines,  pale  color,  and  aged  features,  reveal  the 
story  of  defective  nourishment  in  infancy.  If  the  father  works 
in  a  shop  where  the  atmosphere  is  foul,  the  hours  long,  the 
toil  exhausting,  we  have  an  added  cause  of  physical  and  moral 
degeneration.  It  is  true  that  sensual  vices  and  drunkenness 
add  to  these  ruinous  tendencies,  and  we  cannot  too  strongly 
paint  the  sin.  No  colors  are  lurid  enough  to  depict  the  hor- 
rors of  these  immorcl  ties  and  their  dread  brood  of  weak  and 
degenerate  offspring.  But  those  who  are  comfortable  must  try 
to  understand  that  vice  is  itself  an  effect,  and  that  among  the 
causes  of  vice  are  unwholesome  external  conditions,  low  pay, 
uncertain  employment,  and  unkind  treatment.  It  is  the  par- 
ticular duty  of  the  prosperous  and  well-fed  to  consider  the 
relations  between  the  "labor  movement"  and  the  temperance 
movement. 

But  now  add  the  fact  that  many  wives  and  mothers  are  com- 
pelled by  poverty  to  leave  homes  and  children  to  earn,  or  help 
earn,  a  living  in  factories  and  mills.  All  admit  that  the  evil 
is  great.  Why  is  factory  work  of  wives  and  mothers  such  an 
evil?  Because  it  takes  the  woman  from  a  work  which  requires 
all  her  strength.  The  proper  care  of  a  household  is  labor 
enough  for  a  poor  woman,  and  if  she  must  be  away  from  the 
home  during  many  hours  each  day,  it  is  impossible  for  her 
to  maintain  a  clean,  tidy,  healthy  house,  and  provide  food, 
clothing,  and  comfort  for  husband  and  children.  But  if  it  is 
an  evil  to  have  mothers  leave  young  children  to  earn  a  living 
in  a  factory,  it  is  even  worse  to  turn  the  scant  room  of  the 
cottage  or  tenement  into  a  workshop.  The  worst  abuses  of 
modern    industry   are    found    in   these    "sweated"  domestic 


The   Social   World  in  Miniature  75 

shops.  The  conclusion  is  that  poor  mothers  have  no  place 
in  the  factory,  and  that  garment-making  and  like  low-paid 
industries  are  not  suitable  for  mothers.  Shall  not  society 
permit  poor  mothers  to  earn  a  living?  The  question  is  not 
easily  and  quickly  answered.  A  poor  woman  has  done  her 
full  industrial  task  when  she  has  performed  mother  work. 
Normally,  wages  of  men  should  be  high  enough  to  maintain 
families.  In  abnormal  cases  philanthropy  should  find  a  way 
of  relief. 

The  factory  employment  of  girls  and  unmarried  women  is 
not  so  serious  a  social  problem.  It  was  perfectly  natural  that 
young  women,  having  no  longer  the  household  industries  which 
occupied  their  grandmothers,  as  carding,  spinning,  and  weav- 
ing, should  follow  those  occupations  to  the  establishments 
which  are  provided  with  modern  machinery.  And  yet,  there 
are  some  dark  features  even  here.  Statistics  do  not  seem  to 
show  that  immorality  has  been  deepened  by  this  custom, 
although  it  may  be  said  generally  that  crime  does  increase 
with  women  in  countries  where  they  are  most  exposed  to  the 
friction  and  collision  of  public  affairs.  But  as  machine  in- 
dustry advances  in  the  newer  states  it  will  be  found  necessary 
to  guard  women  from  the  perils  of  night  work  and  the  im- 
proper conditions  of  crowded  shops. 

In  this  connection  we  must  refer  to  the  evils  of  child  labor 
in  factories.  Growing  children  must  be  kept  out  of  factories 
until  they  are  well  matured,  for  many  reasons :  that  the  tissues 
and  organs  of  the  body  may  have  a  full  development;  that 
they  may  not  be  poisoned  by  chemical  odors  and  their  vitality 
sapped  before  the  energies  of  resistance  have  come  to  their 
climax;  that  they  may  have  a  chance  at  the  play  time  of  life 
and  not  be  changed  prematurely  into  old  men  and  women, 
decrepit  before  life  has  fairly  begun;  that  their  intellectual 
progress  at  school  may  not  be  cut  off  before  they  have  mental 
equipment  for  the  intellectual  struggles  of  modern  competitive 
existence. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  those  engaged  in  the  "labor  move- 
ment," trade  unions,  mutual  benefit  societies,  factory  in- 
spectors, and  reformers  of  legislation,  are  really  contending 
for  the  very  cradles  and  altars  of  national  life. 


y6  Social  Elements 


Housekeeping  is  yet  to  be  made  a  beautiful  art;  now  it  is 
too  often  regarded  as  drudgery  and  slavery.  When  we  despise 
a  necessary  task,  we  slur  and  spoil  it.  No  work  can  be  done 
finely  unless  it  is  thought  to  be  dignified.  Housekeeping  has 
no  place  as  yet  in  a  liberal  education;  it  is  the  only  occupa- 
tion to  which  a  democratic  society  dares  to  give  the  name 
"  service. "  About  it  linger  the  contempt  and  shame  of  slavery. 
It  has  no  place  in  the  schoolhouses,  save  here  and  there  as  a 
hated  and  hunted  "fad."  And  with  what  consequences? 
Dyspepsia,  stomachs  full  of  ferments  and  undigested  and 
indigestible  food,  with  a  myriad  of  diseases,  bad  tempers, 
family  quarrels,  resort  to  drink  for  stimulant  and  to  the  saloon 
for  companionship. 

There  also  is  the  aggravating  problem  of  domestic  help. 
Many  a  household  is  made  unhappy  and  anxious  because  there 
is  unrest,  uncertainty,  and  restless  change  in  this  department. 
Many  feel  themselves  driven  to  boarding  houses  and  hotels 
because  of  this  terrible  affliction.  It  is  a  vulgar  topic  of  con- 
versation in  two  hostile  camps  of  the  nation. 

XL  Associated  Efforts  to  better  Home  Life  are  Engaging 
Increasing  Attention  in  all  Christian  Lands.  —  Perhaps  one  of 
the  most  important  associations  for  the  betterment  of  domes- 
tic life  is  the  National  League  for  the  Protection  of  the 
Family.1  This  society  acts  for  the  people  of  the  country 
on  behalf  of  every  means  of  elevating  the  state  of  domestic 
welfare.  It  investigates  the  facts  relating  to  the  perils  of 
the  home  and  sets  the  results  of  investigation  before  the 
world.  Its  educational  influence  is  very  great.  It  conducts 
a  constant  study  of  laws  and  administration  and  it  arms 
reformers  and  philanthropists  with  the  weapons  of  truth  and 
reasons.  It  corresponds  with  congressmen  and  members  of 
legislative  committees  and  commissions,  and  secures  improved 
laws.  It  collects  the  suggestions  of  judges  and  lawyers  of 
high  character  and  learning,  and  publishes  the  results.  It 
was  the  means  of  securing  from  the  general  government  one 
of  the  most  important  statistical  investigations  on  the  subject 
of  divorce  which  was  ever  given  to  the  world.  It  deserves  the 
support  of  every  patriot  and  of  every  church.     There  ought  to 

1  Secretary,  Rev.  S.  W.  Dike,  LL.D.,  Auburndale,  Massachusetts. 


The  Social  World  in  Miniature  77 

be  funds  sent  for  its  work  from  every  town  in  the  land,  although 
the  sum  required  from  each  community  is  not  large. 

Of  the  cooperation  of  the  schools  with  the  home,  in  the 
educational  activities  of  the  family,  we  may  speak  later,  in  the 
chapter  which  deals  with  the  school.  In  the  proper  place, 
the  aid  of  the  church  and.  Sunday-school  will  be  invoked  in 
the  promotion  of  the  higher  life  in  the  household.  Child- 
saving  work  is  now  being  directed  primarily  to  securing  new 
homes  for  the  homeless,  instead  of  placing  orphans  in  huge 
institutions  where  mother  care  is  impossible.  But  it  is  also 
discovered  that  many  homes  are  unsuitable  for  the  proper 
rearing  of  the  young,  and  now  we  are  seeking  to  build  up  the 
life  of  such  families  for  the  sake  of  the  future  generation. 
Defective  children,  as  the  feeble-minded,  who  never  can  sup- 
port themselves  and  care  for  themselves  in  competitive  life, 
should  all  be  cared  for  in  special  asylums,  where  a  safe  cus- 
tody will  preserve  them  from  injury  and  save  them  from 
becoming  the  parents  of  hapless  and  miserable  offspring,  so 
that  the  stream  of  heredity  shall  not  perpetuate  the  suffering 
and  pain  beyond  the  present  lifetime. 

Every  one  of  the  reforms  and  improvements  to  be  discussed 
in  this  book,  if  rationally  and  successfully  conducted,  will 
contribute  to  the  happiness  and  social  efficiency  of  the  home. 


CHAPTER  V 
A  uxilia  ry  Institu  tions 

We  have  here  to  deal  with  a  number  of  public  institutions 
which  are  necessary  to  the  working  of  all  other  institutions, 
and  are  presupposed  by  them.  They  have  gradually  grown  up, 
as  all  institutions  grow,  by  minute  improvements  and  inven- 
tions, and  through  experiments  tried  for  acceptance  or  rejec- 
tion, and  they  have  been  made  more  or  less  general  by 
unconscious  imitation,  by  general  perception  of  their  utility, 
and  have  been  sanctioned  and  made  authoritative  by  custom 
or  law.  No  individual  or  private  association  thinks  of  invent- 
ing or  creating  one  of  them.  It  is  sometimes  necessary  for 
the  individual  to  procure  for  himself  what  he  usually  relies  on 
society  to  provide.  But  these  exceptional  cases  simply  bring 
out  the  general  fact  with  more  emphasis.  By  observing, 
analyzing,  and  explaining  the  auxiliary  institutions,  we  shall 
advance  in  our  understanding  of  social  thinking.  For  every, 
common  work  or  structure  is  the  embodiment  of  a  common 
idea  or  feeling. 

/.  The  System  of  Protection.  —  All  the  factors  which  enter 
into  the  complex  of  society  are  constantly  threatened  by  forces 
of  dissolution, —  the  bodies  of  men,  their  property,  and  their 
character.  Life  is  one  long  and  unceasing  struggle  to  push 
back  the  day  of  death.  Much  of  the  energy  at  our  command 
is  consumed  in  this  battle,  and  much  of  our  wit  is  evoked 
by  it. 

The  dangers  are  above  and  below,  in  nature  and  in  our 
fellow-men.  From  external  nature  come  the  pitiless  frost, 
the  deadly  miasma,  the  fever  germs,  the  floods  and  lightnings, 
the  hungry  flame,  the  poisonous  plant,  the  flesh-eating  wild 
beast,  the  venomous  reptile.     Our  foes  are  of  our  own  kind: 

78 


Auxiliary  Institutions  79 

criminals  who  live  by  fraud  or  robbery;  rebels  who  revolt 
against  social  order;  aggressive  foreigners  who  seek  to  enlarge 
their  territory.  So,  also,  there  are  insidious  enemies  of  moral- 
ity and  purity,  unsound  teachings,  vicious  and  sensual  books, 
pictures,  plays,  and  companies,  and  all  the  constant  and  rest- 
less agencies  which  seduce  and  debase  the  mind.  All  that 
man  possesses  he  must  win  and  defend. 

Social  Organization  for  Protection.  —  Each  institution  has 
some  means  of  defending  itself  from  its  enemies.  Each 
family  has  clothing,  house  walls  and  roof,  locks  and  bars,  the 
medicine  chest,  and  the  holy  Book. 

Quaint  George  Herbert  wrote :  — 

"  Lord,  with  what  care  hast  Thou  begirt  us  round  ! 
Parents  first  season  us;   then  schoolmasters 
Deliver  us  to  laws;  they  send  us  bound 
To  rules  of  reason,  holy  messengers 

"  Tulpits  and  Sundays ;   sorrow  dogging  sin ; 
Afflictions  sorted;   anguish  of  all  sizes; 
Fine  nets  and  stratagems  to  catch  us  in; 
Bibles  laid  open,  millions  of  surprises; 

"  Blessings  beforehand;   ties  of  gratefulness; 
The  sound  of  glory  ringing  in  our  ears; 
Without,  our  shame;   within,  our  consciences; 
Angels  and  grace;   eternal  hopes  and  fears;  — 
Yet  all  these  fences,  and  their  whole  array, 
One  cunning  bosom-sin  blows  quite  away." 

The  social  system  of  protection  cannot  be  entirely  classified 
under  the  functions  of  the  government.  The  family,  the 
neighborhood,  the  school,  the  church,  the  factory,  provide 
parts  of  the  system.  It  is  social,  an  arrangement  made  by  the 
entire  community  through  all  its  organs,  and  not  by  the  state 
alone.  In  increasing  degree  the  organ  of  the  general  will, 
the  government,  undertakes  this  task  of  protection. 

The  Mississippi  valley'would  not  be  secure  from  the  floods 
of  the  monster  river  if  it  were  left  to  private  or  local  enter- 
prises. There  must  be  a  long  series  of  dikes,  and  the  expense 
of  these  is  so  great,  and  the  interest  of  the  nation  is  so  clearly 
involved,   that  national  resources  are   taxed  to  provide   the 


8o  Social  Elements 


defence.  Army  and  navy  are  organized  against  foreign  foes. 
In  cities  men  do  not  carry  pistols  and  swords  to  defend  them- 
selves, but  a  special  body  of  policemen  are  paid  for  that  task. 
But  in  new  frontier  towns  and  mining  camps  every  man,  like 
th^  primitive  savage,  must  be  ready  to  defend  his  body  and 
his  property.  This  irregular  method  soon  gives  place  among 
civilized  men  to  a  regular  and  efficient  method  of  resisting 
encroachments  upon  rights. 

It  is  coming  to  be  felt  that  a  rural  police  is  desirable,  such 
as  the  older  European  countries  have  long  enjoyed.  Frequent 
and  disgraceful  instances  of  lynch  law  have  given  some  locali- 
ties a  bad  name  among  Christian  peoples.  Until  adequate 
protection  is  afforded  by  a  complete  system  of  mounted  police 
and  detectives  all  over  the  country,  these  violent  outbursts 
will  occur.  They  will  disappear  when  it  comes  to  be  felt  that 
effective  agents  of  justice  are  alert  and  ready  to  arrest  all  who 
prey  upon  property  or  who  attack  persons. 

Boards  of  health,  in  cities  and  states,  are  part  of  the 
machinery  to  ward  off  the  dangers  of  disease.  The  entire 
medical  profession  may  be  regarded  as  a  corps  of  experts  sup- 
ported by  society  for  the  purpose  of  defence  against  physical 
enemies.  That  is  their  "  function  "  or  use.  They  accomplish 
their  duty  partly  by  prescribing  medicine  and  diet,  or  by  per- 
forming surgical  operations  for  individuals,  and  for  this  they 
are  paid.  But  in  addition  to  this,  and  gratuitously,  they 
diffuse  in  the  community  knowledge  of  hygiene,  of  methods 
of  preventing  the  spread  of  infectious  diseases,,  and  they  act 
on  commissions  and  boards  whose  purpose  it  is  to  remove  the 
causes  of  disease. 

II.  The  Public  System  of  Comfoi-t  a nd  Convenience.  —  Closely 
related  to  the  auxiliary  systems  for  the  protection  of  health  and 
spiritual  good  are  those  which  provide  a  supply  of  the  necessi- 
ties of  existence  and  which  dispose  of  the  waste  incident  to 
large  communities. 

Among  the  essential  conditions  of  life  we  must  count,  in 
the  first  place,  food,  water,  and  light.  In  cities  a  special 
form  of  organization  is  required  for  the  supply  of  these  ele- 
ments. Even  in  village  life  it  is  necessary  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  the  distribution  of  food  and  other  materials  of  daily 


Auxiliary  Institutions  8 1 

use,  especially  of  coffee,  spices,  and  all  foreign  products.  In 
large  towns  the  system  by  which  meats,  milk,  vegetables,  and 
other  foods  are  supplied  as  required  is  highly  developed  and 
intensely  interesting  to  study.  While  the  machinery  is  by  no 
means  perfect,  and  is  often  needlessly  wasteful  and  slow,  still, 
at  its  worst,  we  find  marvellous  provision  made  for  multitudes 
of  families.  In  response  to  a  demand  there  springs  up  the 
means  of  supply.  Goods  are  stored  of  the  kind  needed,  they 
are  exposed  for  sale  in  each  neighborhood,  and  they  are  deliv- 
ered at  the  door  of  each  inhabitant.  These  food  materials 
are  collected  from  the  ends  of  the  earth;  and  one  may  almost 
fancy  that  he  sees  ships,  trains,  wagons,  and  pack-horses  mov- 
ing with  their  various  burdens  toward  the  home  of  the  humblest 
citizen,  in  obedience  to  his  wish. 

In  the  country  one  has  usually  only  to  dig  or  bore  a  well  in 
order  to  secure  wholesome  water.  The  soil  is  friendly, —  the 
source  of  food  and  drink.  In  the  city  these  conditions  are 
reversed:  the  soil  is  saturated  with  poison;  it  is  sterile  and 
deadly.  Water  must  be  conducted  at  great  expense  from  long 
distances.  "Free  as  water  "  is  a  phrase  full  of  irony,  because 
each  family  must  pay  a  regular  water  tax.  But  this  water  tax 
is  a  cheap  payment  for  the  service  rendered.  For  if  each 
inhabitant  were  compelled  to  carry  water  ten,  or  even  fifty, 
miles  for  himself,  or  buy  it  by  the  bottle  in  drug  stores,  poor 
people  would  suffer  desperately,  and  the  means  of  cleanliness 
would  be  denied  them. 

One  would  think  that  no  social  arrangement  need  to  be 
made  for  light,  a  commodity  which  delivers  and  distributes 
its  riches  gratis.  This  is  true  in  the  country,  far  from  the 
lofty  walls  and  narrow  trenches  between  mountains  of  houses; 
but  in  large  towns,  where  the  buildings  are  lofty  and  densely 
packed  together,  it  is  necessary  to  make  social  regulations  to 
secure  the  access  of  light  from  the  sun.  Experience  has  shown 
that  public  lighting  is  essential  to  order  and  comfort.  It  is 
not  practicable  for  each  person  to  carry  his  own  lantern;  at 
least  it  is  not  economical.  Far  more  desirable  is  it  for  the 
city  to  light  its  inhabitants  by  some  general  plan  which  pro- 
vides lamps  of  oil,  gas,  or  electricity  in  all  places.  Crime 
hides  its  head  and  vice  fears  the  piercing  and  revealing  rays. 


82  Social  Elements 


Thorough  lighting  of  streets,  alleys,  and  courts  is  a  measure 
of  protection  and  police,  as  well  as  of  comfort. 

The  disposal  of  waste  is  a  serious  problem  in  all  towns. 
On  farms  it  is  not  difficult,  with  a  little  care  and  intelligence, 
to  convey  the  rainfall  along  channels  to  the  tile  drain  or  to 
the  open  ravine.  It  is  not  difficult  to  dispose  of  all  offensive 
and  decaying  matter  by  burying  it  just  under  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  where  minute  organisms  and  chemical  agents  soon  trans- 
form it,  solid  or  liquid,  into  plant  food.  In  the  farming 
region  it  is  necessary  to  avoid  the  contamination  of  wells 
which  comes  from  permitting  this  waste  to  sink  deep  into  the 
ground  in  cesspools,  which  poison  the  soil  in  every  direc- 
tion for  many  rods. 

But  in  towns,  to  bury  waste  matter  would  be  to  invite  the 
plague  and  call  down  the  horrors  of  epidemic.  It  must  be 
carried  to  a  distance,  mixed  with  earth,  or  purified  by  fire  or 
water.  One  of  the  most  difficult  problems  of  modern  science 
and  municipal  art  is  to  find  a  safe  and  economical  method  of 
taking  the  refuse  of  cities  and  transforming  it  into  fertilizers 
or  something  else  that  is  useful,  as  well  as  to  prevent  it  from 
becoming  the  cause  of  pestilence  and  destruction.  In  the 
earlier  cities,  before  the  birth  of  modern  science,  ignorance 
of  sanitation  caused  the  death  of  multitudes  of  the  population 
in  many  countries.  Even  in  our  own  country  and  age,  where 
the  principles  of  science  have  been  neglected  through  igno- 
rance, whole  cities  have  been  driven  to  despair  by  death-deal- 
ing fevers  which  would  have  no  terrors  for  a  clean  town.  The 
system  must  provide  for  the  removal  of  rainfall,  of  liquid 
waste,  and  of  solid  garbage  which  cannot  be  reduced  to  fluidity. 
Our  towns  are  busy  on  this  problem,  with  the  help  of  the  best 
advice.  One  of  our  great  cities  —  Chicago  —  has  already 
spent  nearly  thirty  millions  of  dollars  in  the  construction  of 
a  drainage  canal,  in  order  that  its  supply  of  water  from  Lake 
Michigan  may  not  be  poisoned,  and  that  the  sewage  may  be 
diverted  into  less  dangerous  courses.  Each  city  is  obliged, 
in  consequence  of  its  local  surroundings,  to  study  and  work 
out  its  own  system.  City  life  must  always  be  more  artificial 
than  rural  life.  This  socialized  provision  for  common  wants 
is  one  of  the  distinguishing  features  of  town  life. 


Auxiliary  Institutions  83 

It  is  not  necessary  to  describe  and  discuss  in  detail  the 
various  social  organizations  by  which  these  systems  of  com- 
fort and  convenience  and  health  are  controlled.  The  water 
supply,  for  example,  may  be  furnished  by  a  private  person  or 
corporation,  or  by  the  town  government.  The  same  alterna- 
tives are  open  in  case  of  lighting  and  food  supply.  But  it  is 
very  rare  for  a  city  to  do  anything  more  than  regulate  the  food 
system,  and  equally  rare  to  find  the  authorities  leaving  the 
sewage  "to  the  care  of  individuals. 

III.  Social  System  of  Adaptation  to  Space.  — All  that  a  com- 
munity does  must  occur  within  determined  limits  of  space. 
We  may  think  of  society  as  at  rest,  simply  occupying  a  certain 
area;  or  we  may  think  of  movements  from  place  to  place,  of 
persons  and  of  things.  In  other  words,  we  may  study  the 
arrangements  made  by  societies  for  location,  and  those  made 
for  transportation  and  communication. 

Locatiofi  and  Edifices.  —  Our  survey  of  the  facts  of  nature 
has  shown  us  that  human  society  could  not  exist  without  room, 
and  that  its  members  live  by  means  of  the  materials  which  the 
physical  world  supplies.  The  external  world  furnishes  the 
conditions  of  social  arrangements  and  partly  determines  them. 
Let  us  now  see  how  societies  make  their  adjustments  to  the 
earth  as  they  advance  in  cooperation. 

From  a  tower  or  hill  one  may  sometimes  overlook  a  town, 
or  even  a  wide  plain  on  which  are  several  villages.  Each 
family  has  its  home,  usually  with  a  lot  or  garden  or  adjoining 
field.  The  manufacturing  establishments  must  occupy  ground 
to  the  exclusion  of  other  uses.  Every  institution  must  have 
its  edifice,  covering  a  portion  of  the  limited  earth. 

There  is  also  necessity  for  some  kind  of  social  arrangement 
and  understanding  about  the  use  of  this  space.  Two  bodies 
cannot  occupy  the  same  space  at  the  same  time.  Occasion- 
ally we  are  made  to  feel  the  necessity  for  social  understanding, 
when  a  title  is  disputed,  or  when- two  farmers  quarrel  about 
the  location  of  the  line  fence,  or  when  a  landlord  causes  a 
delinquent  tenant  to  be  thrust  out  upon  the  sidewalk  with  all 
his  household  furniture.  The  penniless  wanderer,  out  of  em- 
ployment, driven  from  hotels,  rejected  at  farmhouses,  chilled 
by  winter's  wind,  realizes  that,  while  the  world  is  wide,  it  has 


84  Social  Elements 


no  room  for  him.  The  first  task  for  the  head  of  a  household 
is  to  secure  a  place  for  his  family.  The  schoolhouse  and  the 
church  must  have  a  lot.  All  persons  and  institutions  must 
arrange  for  a  definite  place  and  home. 

Reasons  governing  the  Selection  of  Sites  for  Houses  and 
Towns.  —  In  former  ages,  when  war  was  general  and  neighbors 
were  enemies,  sites  for  residence  were  selected  with  reference 
to  security  against  invaders.  Thus  the  banks  of  the  Rhine 
are  made  interesting  by  the  remains  or  ruins  of  castles  built 
long  ages  ago,  by  men  who  lived  by  plunder  or  sought  to  pro- 
tect themselves  from  robbers.  Lofty  eminences,  tops  of  steep 
cliffs,  deep  canons  and  defiles,  have  often  been  the  places  on 
the  whole  most  suitable  for  residence.  But  with  the  establish- 
ment of  settled  government  these  considerations  yielded  to 
others.  Healthy  ground  has  been  selected,  and  low,  damp, 
malarious  levels  have  been  deserted.  Even  where  there  was 
scant  knowledge  of  sanitary  science,  experience  taught  its 
costly  lessons  to  colonists  in  new  regions,  and  drove  them 
from  even  fertile  spots  where  the  fever  swept  away  their  chil- 
dren and  weakened  their  numbers.  Along  with  considerations 
of  health  and  security,  especially  after  the  rise  of  trades  and 
commerce,  the  settlers  in  new  regions  thought  of  waterways, 
of  nearness  to  productive  soils,  quarries,  and  ores.  Sites 
which  are  beautiful  commended  themselves  to  those  who  had 
taste  and  were  not  compelled  to  forego  such  considerations 
by  fear  of  poverty.  The  study  of  the  reasons  for  the  selection 
of  sites  for  residences  or  cities  is  an  admirable  exercise  in 
social  psychology,  for  here  we  discover  in  the  acts  of  men 
their  methods  of  reasoning  and  choice,  and  the  way  of  har- 
monizing their  separate  choices  as  individuals. 

Houses  in  settled  communities  must  have  some  kind  of 
order,  especially  if  there  is  a  degree  of  crowding.  They  must 
be  arranged  in  streets  or  along  highways.  This  arrangement 
of  houses  of  all  kinds  seems  to  give  even  a  defined  shape  to 
society.  There  are  few  towns  in  this  country,  or  in  any 
country,  which  have  been  built  upon  a  far-seeing  plan. 
Philadelphia,  in  its  central  parts,  was  laid  out  in  very  regular 
squares,  and  the  effect  is  monotonous  and  wearisome,  while 
in  its  newer  portions  modern  feeling  has  departed  from  the 


Auxiliary  Institutions  85 

Quaker  simplicity  of  a  former  age  and  introduced  great  and 
pleasing  variety.  The  capital  city  of  the  nation,  Washington, 
was  laid  out  upon  a  magnificent  ground  plan,  and  its  splendid 
streets  and  avenues  are  the  pride  of  the  nation.  Among  the 
towns  occupied  by  wage-earners,  perhaps  none  can  excel  Pull- 
man. Although  the  site  is  level,  yet  the  arrangement  of 
grounds,  lakelets,  trees,  houses,  public  buildings,  and  shops 
is  so  artistic  and  harmonious  that  the  general  effect  is  delight- 
ful, especially  in  the  summer.  We  are  not  thinking  of  the 
terms  of  ownership,  nor  commending  the  rate  of  rents  or  the 
accommodations,  but  refer  simply  to  the  external  method  of 
occupying  the  space  with  buildings.  This  admirable  result 
was  attained  by  having  the  control  of  the  town  in  one  mind, 
so  that  the  landscape  gardener  and  the  architects  could  carry 
out  one  consistent  and  beautiful  system.  After  a  town  or  city 
has  grown  up  haphazard,  it  is  difficult  to  make  any  essential 
changes. 

If  the  people  of  a  community  are  willing  to  employ  a  com- 
petent artist  to  arrange  the  new  additions  and  to  lay  out 
improvements  in  the  old  portions,  they  can  enjoy  beautiful 
designs.  But  if  the  disposition  of  houses  and  grounds,  streets 
and  open  spaces,  is  left  to  individuals,  the  town  is  sure  to  be 
ugly.  What  Mr.  Pullman  accomplished  as  a  single  master  of 
a  large  tract,  villages  and  cities  can  accomplish  by  giving 
authority  to  boards  of  improvement  and  to  landscape  gardeners. 

Tendency  to  Expansion. — The  constant  growth  of  popula- 
tion which  is  characteristic  of  most  peoples  implies  an  exten- 
sion in  space.  If  we  compare  maps  of  the  United  States  at 
intervals  since  the  colonial  days,  we  shall  be  impressed  by 
this  fact.  The  crowded  nations  of  the  Old  World  have  sent 
their  superfluous  population  to  find  homes  on  the  wide  conti- 
nent of  America.  This  led  at  first  to  struggles  for  territory. 
Spanish,  French,  English,  went  to  war  with  each  other  and 
against  the  Indians,  and  the  primary  motive  of  those  bloody 
conflicts  was  desire  for  territory.  Out  of  those  terrible  strug- 
gles came  at  last  a  peaceful  solution,  and  the  boundary  lines 
of  possession  have  been  fixed  and  made  secure  by  the  building 
of  a  nation  strong  enough  to  protect  its  citizens  in  quiet  use 
and  ownership  of  the  soil. 


86  Social  Elements 


But  the  struggle  is  not  over.  It  has  simply  assumed  new 
forms.  Multitudes  of  men  are  toiling,  building,  competing, 
for  the  possession  of  titles  to  farms,  city  lots,  gardens,  sites 
for  factories  and  shops.  With  increasing  density  of  popula- 
tion the  difficulty  of  securing  ground  is  greater,  and  the  young 
press  on  to  the  West.  Now  that  cheap  and  desirable  land 
becomes  more  rare,  we  hear  of  schemes  for  irrigation  of  arid 
plains,  in  order  that  more  space  may  be  provided  for  our 
excessive  population  in  congested  towns. 

Out  of  this  struggle  for  land  comes  the  necessity  for  legal 
regulation  of  titles  to  mines,  farms,  forests,  and  pastures. 
Hence  such  social  problems  as  the  Single  Tax,  Inheritance 
Tax,  Homestead  Laws,  Exemption  from  Assessment,  and 
many  similar  questions.  The  possession  of  a  large  territory 
has  many  important  effects  on  the  nation  at  large,  on  its  spirit 
and  plans. 

"  The  spaces  into  which  we  must  fit  our  political  ideas  and  plans  are 
measured  by  the  general  space  in  which  we  live.  ...  A  great  territory 
invites  to  bold  expansion;  a  small  one  engenders  a  faint-hearted  huddling 
of  the  population.  The  range  of  the  inward,  as  of  the  outward,  vision  is 
capable  of  being  increased  in  every  individual,  and  while  he  gages  the  ex- 
tent of  his  geographical  space  by  his  freedom  of  movement  and  his  right  to 
enjoy  it,  he  shapes  accordingly  his  ideas  and  his  habits,  and  so  as  a  whole 
does  a  people."  x 

This  is  true  of  our  country,  as  foreign  witnesses  testify. 
Large  farms,  vast  systems  of  railroads,  governmental  systems 
covering  the  continent,  industrial  enterprises  reaching  out 
from  ocean  to  ocean  and  to  foreign  lands,  tolerance  of  all 
sects  and  schools  of  thought  without  legal  persecution  or  inter- 
ference, missionary  societies  with  world-wide  aims,  are  among 
the  illustrations  of  the  sublime  conceptions  fostered  by  the 
ownership  and  control  of  wide  national  domains.  While  large 
areas  alone  cannot  produce  great  ideas,  and  while  small  terri- 
tories have  produced  men  of  splendid  intellect,  yet  the  enlarg- 
ing influence  of  territory  on  thought  and  sentiment  cannot  be 
denied. 

Movement  in  Space.  —  Arrangement  must  be  made  not  only 
for  orderly  location  of  houses,  lots,  farms,  and  factories,  but 

1  F.  Ratzel,  Am.  Jour.  Soc,  Jan.  1898.     "  Political  Areas." 


Auxiliary  Institutions  Sy 

also  for  systematic  transportation  of  goods,  persons,  and  the 
material  expressions  of  thought. 

Transportation. — The  first  element  in  a  social  system  of 
carrying  and  travel  is  the  way.  The  path  of  transport  may  be 
a  road,  street,  watercourse,  or  railroad  track.  The  second 
element  to  be  considered  is  the  vehicle,  as  the  shoulders  of  a 
porter,  the  back  of  an  animal,  the  wagon  or  cart,  the  coach 
or  the  train.  The  third  element  is  the  power  that  moves,  as 
wind,  current,  muscles,  steam,  electricity.  The  progress  of 
invention  is  marked  by  the  advance  in  modes  and  means  of 
travel  and  carriage.  More  and  more  the  forces  of  nature  are 
substituted  for  the  muscular  energy  of  man. 

Communication. — The  social  system  of  communication  is 
really  only  another  mode  of  transportation,  since  it  merely 
provides  for  the  movement  of  the  physical  embodiments  of 
ideas.  The  telegraph  line  runs  along  the  railroad.  The  mail 
trains  serve  the  postal  system.  The  telephone  wire  "carries" 
our  spoken  message. 

The  development  of  this  social  system  of  communication  is 
full  of  interest.  Savages  conveyed  thoughts  chiefly  by  words 
and  signs  in  presence  of  each  other.  Hence,  among  primi- 
tive peoples  the  group  which  can  be  in  spiritual  touch  must 
be  small.  Signals  of  fire  from  peak  to  peak  were  invented  to 
call  rude  tribes  to  the  rendezvous  of  war.  Flags  are  used  at 
sea  where  colors  and  shapes  must  take  the  place  of  vocal 
utterance.  The  earlier  postal  system  depended  upon  footmen 
and  riders.  The  introduction  of  the  railroad  made  swifter 
communication  possible,  at  an  ever-cheaper  rate,  between 
cities  and  widely  separated  nations.  The  electric  telegraph 
and  cable  joined  in  spiritual  union  peoples  who  had  been  iso- 
lated from  each  other.  The  telephone  still  further  facilitated 
commercial  and  sociable  intercourse. 

Improvements  in  transportation  and  communication  have 
great  significance  for  civilization.  Imitation  becomes  more 
rapid.  Inventions,  fashions,  ideas,  plans,  styles,  technical 
processes  travel  from  the  point  of  invention  and  discovery  with 
great  rapidity.  In  former  times,  in  a  city  state,  where  the 
number  of  citizens  Was  small,  the  entire  population  might  be 
reached  by  a  single  orator  speaking  from  the  public  platform. 


88  Social  Elements 


This  kind  of  influence  of  one  person  over  many  is  impossible 
where  the  members  of  a  community  cannot  be  instantly  reached 
by  the  voice.  But  the  telegraph  has  almost  brought  the  mem- 
bers of  all  nations  into  one  vast  assembly,  where  the  same 
words  sway  all  minds  at  the  same  instant.  The  printed  page 
takes  the  place  of  the  speaker's  voice  and  gesture. 

Thus  the  citizens  of  modern  countries  dress  and  think  very 
much  alike  at  a  given  time.  But  when  a  change  of  any  kind 
arises,  it  is  very  quickly  made  universal. 

The  pictures  of  costumes,  carriages,  and  furniture  are  seen 
in  shop  windows  in  Vienna,  Budapesth,  Paris,  London,  and 
Oshkosh  at  nearly  the  same  time.  A  riot  in  the  Austria- 
Hungary  Parliament  is  discussed  an  hour  later  in  New  Orleans. 
Berlin  and  Chicago  exchange  ideas  about  municipal  lighting 
in  the  same  month.  The  discovery  of  a  new  asteroid  or  satel- 
lite in  the  Lick  Observatory  is  flashed  to  all  the  astronomical 
towers  of  the  world  before  the  next  dawn. 

A  medical  missionary  in  China  tells  us  that  she  buys  her 
butter  from  France,  her  bed  from  New  York,  her  bicycle  from 
Michigan,  her  medicines  from  Germany,  her  vegetables  and 
most  articles  of  clothing  from  her  Chinese  neighbors.  Let 
the  reader  make  a  list  of  articles  daily  used  for  necessity  or 
comfort,  and  trace  them  to  their  origin,  and  thus  count  up 
our  obligations  to  the  system  of  transportation  which  invests 
the  world. 

Thus  merely  mechanical  devices  and  organizations  have  a 
profound  influence  on  the  contents  of  the  social  mind  and 
therefore  on  cooperation  in  conduct.  "When  the  Indian 
trail  gets  widened,  graded,  and  bridged  to  a  good  road,  there 
is  a  benefactor,  there  is  a  missionary,  a  pacificator,  a  wealth- 
bringer,  a  maker  of  markets,  a  vent  for  industry  "  (Emerson). 
The  sea  has  been  a  great  civilizing  agent.  The  very  sight  of 
it  provokes  a  desire  to  travel  and  see  the  world. 

Improvements  in  our  Postal  System.  — Persons  in  high  posi- 
tion have  suggested  various  points  wherein  our  already  excel- 
lent postal  service  may  be  made  to  minister  more  completely 
to  the  wants  of  civilized  communities.  It  is  suggested  that 
the  free  delivery  system  which  is  already  so  convenient  in 
cities,  and  which  is  extended  to  rurai  communities  of  Europe, 


Auxiliary  Institutions  89 

should  gradually  be  extended  to  farms,  mining  camps,  and  all 
settlements;  that  the  money  order  and  registration  system 
should  be  extended  and  made  cheaper;  that  small  parcels 
might  be  carried,  and  that  circles  of  small  offices  might  be 
consolidated  under  better  managements,  so  as  to  provide  for 
better  supervision.  "No  other  country  conveys  a  letter  6849 
miles  within  its  own  territory  for  a  single  rate  of  postage,  as 
we  do,  from  Key  West,  Florida,  to  Circle  City,  Alaska.  In 
no  other  country  does  the  transportation  of  inland  mails  re- 
quire twenty-one  million  miles  of  travel  during  the  year, 
over  railroads,  lake  and  river  steamboats,  and  stage 
lines."1 

While  our  system  is  already  doing  a  great  service  for  civili- 
zation, at  cost  of  an  annual  deficit,  further  improvements  may 
justly  be  expected,  although  their  introduction  must  be  along 
the  lines  of  careful  experiment  with  new  devices. 

The  telephone  system  is  just  beginning  to  produce  its  most 
interesting  results.  In  cities,  after  the  patents  have  expired 
and  municipal  control  or  legislative  action  has  compelled 
reasonable  rates  for  use,  we  may  expect  even  more  important 
modifications  of  social  customs.  In  rural  neighborhoods  we 
may  look  for  desirable  improvements  in  social  customs.  The 
lonesome  farmhouse  can  be  easily  and  cheaply  connected  with 
the  village  store,  the  house  of  the  physician,  and  with  neigh- 
bors. In  Kansas  it  is  said  that  the  wire  fences  have  been  em- 
ployed to  perform  a  double  task :  to  protect  the  crops  and  to 
convey  messages  between  the  homes.  The  extension  of  some 
such  device  would  rob  rural  life  of  many  of  its  terrors,  and 
would  increase  the  warmth  and  depth  of  social  feeling,  the 
source  of  our  highest  pleasures  and  motives. 

IV.  Social  System  for  Time-keeping.  —  In  a  well-regulated 
household,  about  a  certain  moment  in  the  morning,  one  hears 
a  bell,  feels  the  stroke  of  light  upon  the  eyeballs,  hears  the 
swelling  sounds  of  activity,  looks  at  his  watch,  and  begins 
another  day.  There  is  the  breakfast  hour,  the  factory  whistle, 
the  school  bells,  the  church  chime,  the  shriek  of  a  regular 
train,  all  reminding  us  that  every  event  of  our  existence  is 
measured  and  dated  in  time.     The  regulation  according  to 

1  Mr.  Perry  S.  Heath. 


go  Social  Elements 


time  periods  constitutes  a  social  system  which  governs  all  our 
conduct  in  all  institutions. 

In  the  chapter  on  Nature  as  the  basis  of  human  life,  we 
saw  that  the  physical  world  fixes  certain  boundaries  for  our 
doings.  All  natural  forces  are  changed  by  the  touch  of  the 
human  hand,  but  they  are  necessary  for  our  existence,  and  we 
cannot  understand  ourselves  without  referring  to  them.  The 
rhythmic  alternations  of  day  and  night  have  acted  upon  vege- 
tal, animal,  and  human  beings  from  the  first  appearance  of 
life  on  the  planet.  There  is  a  sleeping  and  a  waking  for  all 
organized  creatures.  As  the  earth  revolves  on  its  axis  in 
twenty-four  hours,  the  sun  now  shines  and  now  is  hidden.  As 
the  earth  moves  around  the  sun  in  its  orbit,  the  seasons  come 
and  go  with  regularity.  Man  is  compelled  to  notice  these 
changes  in  order  to  adapt  himself  to  cold  and  heat,  to  sowing 
and  reaping,  to  providing  food  for  winter  and  plans  of  work  for 
summer.  The  changes  of  the  moon  mark  distinctly  a  natural 
division  by  months,  and  the  passing  of  seasons  and  months 
give  us  the  year.  Thus  we  have  in  the  external  world  the 
foundation  for  our  time  system.  Man  did  not  invent  this 
system,  but  discovered  it.  We  set  our  watches  by  the  sun  and 
the  other  stars. 


"  'Tis  easy  saying  they  serve  vast  purposes. 
What's  a  star? 
A  world,  or  a  world's  sun :  doesn't  it  serve 
As  taper  also,  timepiece,  weather  glass, 
And  almanac  ?     Are  stars  not  set  for  signs 
When  we  should  shear  our  sheep,  sow  corn,  prune  trees?  " 

—  Browning. 

That  the  heavenly  bodies  have  other  business  need  not  be 
denied,  even  while  we  find  them  incidentally  convenient  to 
ourselves. 

It  seems  probable  that  the  earliest  calendars  were  made  by 
religious  leaders,  who  taught  the  worship  of  natural  objects 
and  who  had  an  interest  in  the  regulation  of  offerings,  festi- 
vals, and  rituals.  But  these  more  careful  calculations  of  times 
and  seasons  were  simple  and  natural  outgrowths  from  the 
early  efforts  of  man  to  make  his  actions  agree  with  the  motions 
of  his  fellows. 


Auxiliary  Institutions  91 

With  advancing  civilization  accuracy  becomes  important. 
While  life  is  simple,  wants  are  few,  and  groups  of  cooperat- 
ing workers  are  very  small,  time  is  not  very  significant.  An 
hour,  less  or  more,  is  of  no  consequence.  But  when  a  thou- 
sand people  are  waiting  for  a  train  or  a  ship  even  one  minute 
is  of  value.  A  thousand  people  waiting  one  hour  means  the 
loss  of  one  hundred  days  of  precious  working  time. 

The  improvements  in  science  and  art  make  it  possible  to 
measure  time  more  exactly,  by  parts  of  a  second,  instead  of 
by  hours.  When  a  good  system  has  been  adopted  in  one 
country,  it  is  copied  by  others  because  of  its  obvious  con- 
venience, and  so  a  calendar  becomes  more  general  and 
authoritative. 

The  measurement  of  long  periods  or  eras  is  reckoned  from 
some  great  national  or  religious  event.  The  most  widely  used 
era  is  that  which  is  dated  from  the  beginning  of  the  Christian 
history,  Anno  Domini,  the  Year  of  the  Lord.  People  of  vari- 
ous nations,  races,  and  religions  have  different  eras  for  their 
dates.  Owing  to  the  wide  diffusion  of  Christianity  and  the 
colonizing,  missionary,  and  commercial  enterprises  of  Euro- 
pean peoples,  the  Christian  era  is  best  known  and  seems  to  be 
most  likely  to  be  universally  adopted. 

But  time  order  is  necessary  not  only  to  knowing  but  also  to 
doing,  and  especially  to  associated  doing.  In  the  family 
regularity,  precision,  and  punctuality  are  necessary  for  health, 
for  convenience,  and  efficiency.  The  hours  for  meals  must  be 
determined  and  kept  or  the  food  is  cold  and  indigestible. 
Irregular  sleep  is  disturbed  and  fails  to  refresh.  In  industry 
time  is  increasingly  essential.  Think  of  two  thousand  work- 
men waiting  a  half  hour  for  the  engineer  to  get  up  steam  and 
start  the  wheels !  Imagine  a  locomotive  driving  along  a  track 
without  reference  to  the  schedule  of  trains! 

Kxperience  in  school  life  reveals  the  vital  importance  of 
observing  the  moment  of  opening  and  closing.  Disorder, 
waste,  loss,  confusion,  careless  habits,  grow  up  with  irregu- 
larity about  beginning  and  ending.  Those  who  come  late  to 
church  lose  the  first  music  of  the  organ,  often  the  finest  oppor- 
tunity of  life  to  hear  noble  compositions.  Late  comers  dis- 
turb the  others. 


92  Social  Elements 


The  government  must  keep  time.  Its  courts  must  sit  when 
expected.  Its  legislatures  must  have  hours  of  hearing  petitions 
and  considering  bills.  Statutes  must  take  effect  at  a  given 
day  and  hour.  The  social  system  of  time-keeping  is  not  an 
affair  of  one  institution,  but  regulates  or  serves  all. 

There  is  an  entire  code  of  morality  bound  up  in  the  social 
methods  of  regulating  action  by  time.  The  reason  for  the 
duties  of  promptness,  punctuality,  and  regularity  lies  deep  in 
nature  and  in  human  relations.  They  are  not  the  sport  of 
individual  choice.  Our  duties  grow  out  of  our  relations,  and 
our  business  is  to  conform,  not  to  transgress. 

V.  Social  System  of  Standards.  —  Weights  and  measures, 
the  regulation  of  quantity  and  quality,  must  be  common  and 
general,  not  local  and  personal.  Daily  experience  in  buying 
and  selling,  trading,  cooking,  dressmaking,  tailoring,  build- 
ing, making  contracts,  prescribing  medicine  and  compounding 
drugs,  demonstrates  the  necessity  of  having  a  uniform  and 
universal  system  of  weights,  measures,  and  tests  of  fineness 
and  strength.  With  a  uniform  system  of  weights  the  prescrip- 
tion of  a  Cincinnati  physician,  filled  by  an  apothecary  in 
Rome,  Italy,  broke  up  a  malarial  fever.  An  order  for  a  wed- 
ding ring,  so  many  carats  fine,  means  the  same  in  Venice  and 
Chicago,  to  all  who  understand  the  terms.  "No.  i,  White" 
wheat,  graded  in  Chicago  elevators,  means  the  same  quality 
in  Liverpool.  So  long  as  exchange  of  goods  is  confined  to  a 
small  territory,  it  is  sufficient  to  have  a  merely  local  standard. 
But  when  the  inhabitants  of  different  parts  of  a  large  country 
are  trading  with  each  other,  it  is  very  convenient  to  have  one 
system  of  weights  and  measures,  of  quality  and  grade,  for  them 
all.  And  now  that  commerce  between  all  countries  has  as- 
sumed world-wide  proportions  we  see  the  gradual  growth  of 
the  "metric  system"  common  to  all  civilized  peoples. 

Very  much  of  social  cooperation  rests  on  contracts  and 
agreements,  oral  or  written.  The  language  of  these  agreements 
is  meaningless  unless  the  terms  relating  to  quantity  and  quality 
carry  the  same  impression  to  all  parties.  The  system  of  time- 
keeping, transport,  and  communication  serve  all  other  institu- 
tions of  society.  They  are  not  merely  instruments  of  business, 
but  of  family,  school,  church,  government. 


Auxiliary  Institutions  93 

They  are  managed,  usually,  as  forms  of  business.  Street-car 
iines,  canals,  railroads  are  often  in  the  hands  of  firms,  corpo- 
rations, syndicates,  who  manage  them  for  personal  profit.  But 
as  these  systems  serve  all  society  and  all  its  interests,  they  are 
sometimes  owned,  and  they  are  always  regulated,  by  society. 
Gradually  toll  roads  are  bought  up  and  owned  by  the  counties. 
Rivers,  seas,  lakes,  are  left  free  for  all  who  choose  to  travel 
upon  them  or  use  them  for  transport.  Bridges  over  streams 
may  be  owned  either  by  private  parties  or  by  the  local  govern- 
ments; but  in  any  case  they  must  be  made  free  from  the  ca- 
price and  arbitrariness  of  private  owners  by  means  of  public 
regulations.  Whether  the  means  of  transport  and  communi- 
cation should  be  owned  by  corporations  or  by  the  government 
is  to  be  determined  by  economic  and  political  considerations, 
which  we  shall  notice  at  a  later  point. 


CHAPTER   VI 

Social  Arts  of  Creation,  Communication,  and  of 

the  ^Esthetic  Life 

Closely  allied  to  the  Auxiliary  Institutions  just  described 
and  explained  are  other  social  institutions  which  are  implied 
in  all  the  modes  of  association  and  cooperation  yet  to  be 
studied.  These  are  the  arts,  language,  and  the  modes  of 
publicity. 

/.  The  Useful  Arts. — The  arts  are  the  means  and  methods 
by  which  society  secures  its  satisfactions.  Science  deals  with 
knowing,  but  art  implies  both  knowledge  and  power  to  do  or 
make.  Each  of  these  subjects  has  its  own  literature,  text- 
books, schools  of  instruction,  all  of  them  in  our  age  highly 
specialized,  so  that  it  requires  a  lifetime  to  master  any  single 
branch.  Our  purpose  here  is  to  exhibit  the  arts  in  their  sys- 
tematic connection,  and  to  explain  their  relations  to  each 
other  and  to  society.  Indeed,  it  is  only  as  we  see  them  serv- 
ing the  entire  community  that  we  understand  their  function 
and  meaning. 

Requirements.  —  Every  art  makes  use  of  certain  tools,  uten- 
sils, or  other  material  means  of  carrying  into  effect  the  thoughts 
and  designs  of  the  mind.  Thus  the  hunter  uses  bow  and 
arrows,  spear,  or  gun;  the  fisherman  must  have  hook  or  net; 
the  cook  has  vessels  for  baking  and  boiling;  the  painter,  colors 
and  brushes;  the  musician,  organ  or  piano;  the  orator,  his 
vocal  organs. 

But  implements,  tools,  and  machines  are  dead  things  with- 
out knowledge  and  skill.  The  great  organ  lies  silent  in  the 
dim  religious  light  until  its  master  unlocks  the  keyboard  and 
touches  the  keys.     The  chisel  and  plane  create   no  articles 

94 


Social  Arts  95 


of  use  and  luxury  unless  wielded  by  the  trained  mechanic. 
Society  must,  therefore,  provide  in  some  way  for  t"  e  instruc- 
tion of  its  members  in  their  several  callings.  There  are  some 
forms  of  knowledge  which  are  required  by  persons  who  are  to 
follow  all  callings,  elementary  instruction.  But  at  a  later 
period  in  life  it  is  necessary  to  specialize,  since  it  is  impos- 
sible for  a  person  to  make  goods  or  perform  service  for  the 
community  in  more  than  one  calling  or  one  general  direction 
of  kindred  activities. 

This  technical  skill  may  be  communicated  in  two  ways, — 
by  apprenticeship  with  older  workmen  or  by  special  schools 
where  the  trade  is  taught.  Even  where  technical  schools  exist, 
it  is  still  necessary  for  the  young  workman  to  have  experience 
in  actual  industries  in  order  to  acquire  quickness  and  to  adapt 
himself  to  the  rough  conditions  of  every-day  life.  As  society 
becomes  more  complex,  as  the  use  of  costly  machinery  extends, 
and  it  becomes  impossible  to  take  time  to  instruct  awkward 
apprentices,  society  must  gradually  increase  the  range  and 
variety  of  its  technical  and  professional  schools.  This  has 
already  been  done  for  physicians,  lawyers,  musicians,  painters, 
and  many  of  the  textile  trades.  Here  and  there  pioneer 
schools  of  manual  training  and  special  arts  indicate  the  direc- 
tion of  progress. 

One  of  the  most  important  and  complicated  of  arts  is  that 
of  agriculture,  with  the  auxiliary  art  of  rearing  domestic 
animals.  In  a  former  day  it  was  possible  to  wrest  a  coarse 
living  out  of  rich  virgin  soil  by  very  rude  methods,  by  almost 
brute  force.  That  day  is  rapidly  passing.  Severe  competi- 
tion with  the  grain  fields  of  India  and  Siberia  and  Argentina 
is  pressing  heavily  upon  our  farmers.  They  must  learn  more 
economical  methods,  get  more  out  of  an  acre  at  less  cost,  use 
better  machinery,  employ  the  organization  of  the  large  industry, 
or  suffer  countless  miseries.  The  struggle  for  existence,  in 
the  form  of  international  competition,  will  not  permit  us  to 
rest.  We  must  learn  the  best  ways  or  pay  heavy  fines  for 
ignorance  and  awkwardness.  Hence  the  necessity  for  agri- 
cultural colleges  and  experiment  stations,  of  institutes  and 
classes,  dairy  schools  and  gardening  instruction. 

America  has  vast  resources,  but  science  and  art  are  necessary 


g6  Social  Elements 


to  enable  us  to  use  them.  Competition  is  costly  and  hard; 
often  it  :  terns  cruel,  but  it  does  prevent  laziness,  lethargy, 
and  mental  stagnation. 

Classification  of  the  Useful  Arts. — It  is  somewhat  difficult 
to  classify  the  arts,  on  account  of  their  very  great  complexity 
and  multitude.  A  visit  to  a  great  exposition  or  a  manufact- 
uring city  is  bewildering,  because  the  variety  of  callings  and 
products  seems  to  defy  the  mind's  power  to  arrange  the  objects 
in  any  order.  But  our  minds  are  so  constituted  that  we  can- 
not rest  while  the  facts  lie  before  us  in  confusion.  Let  us, 
then,  attempt  to  arrange  the  various  arts  upon  the  single  prin- 
ciple of  their  relations  to  the  organizations  which  minister  to 
social  welfare.  The  enumeration  will  here  extend  beyond 
what  are  usually  called  "useful  arts."  (i)  The  arts  of  the 
direction  and  organization  of  what  we  have  called  "Auxiliary 
Institutions  ";  the  public  arrangements  for  adapting  ourselves 
to  the  relations  of  time,  location,  housing,  movement,  trans- 
port, communication,  protection.  (2)  The  arts  of  domestic 
life.  Within  the  home  there  are  the  rearing,  care,  and  educa- 
tion of  children,  the  parental  art.  Physicians,  nurses,  cooks, 
teachers,  ministers,  and  members  of  all  trades  and  professions 
assist  in  these  tasks.  Originally  we  may  think  of  the  arts  hav- 
ing sprung  from  the  family,  and  now  in  their  independent 
development  they  still  pay  tribute  to  the  mother  institution. 
(3)  Next  there  come  into  view  the  arts  of  economic  organi- 
zation; the  callings  of  men  who  produce  and  exchange  and 
prepare  for  consumption.  (4)  Then  follow  the  industrial  arts 
in  their  various  stages.  In  a  great  factory  there  are  two  sets 
of  men,  those  who  carry  on  the  business  from  the  office  and 
those  inside  the  works,  who  understand  the  processes  of  mak- 
ing the  goods.  Some  of  the  industries  make  articles  directly 
for  human  use,  as  foods,  clothing,  houses,  and  the  like.  But 
there  are  other  important  industries  which  make  the  tools  and 
machinery  for  these  primary  industries,  as  machine  shops, 
engine  works,  manufactories  of  agricultural  implements. 
(5)  We  may  next  distinguish  several  classes  of  art  having 
more  directly  to  do  with  the  spiritual  interests  of  human  life, 
as  those  devoted  to  pure  science, —  the  labors  of  chemists, 
biologists,   mathematicians.     (6)  There  are  others  who  pro- 


Social  Arts  gy 


duce  works  for  contemplation  and  direct  enjoyment,  as  poets, 
musicians,  novelists,  painters,  sculptors,  architects,  all  kinds 
of  artists.  (7)  The  teaching  profession,  in  all  its  branches, 
is  an  art,  based  on  knowledge,  but  requiring  special  methods 
and  skill.  (8)  The  art  of  social  influence  is  practised,  in 
some  degree,  by  most  of  the  members  of  society;  but  there  are 
some  professions  in  which  this  function  occupies  a  specially 
marked  position,  as  in  that  of  preachers,  editors,  teachers, 
parents.  (9)  Finally,  there  is  the  art  of  social  regulation  and 
control,  in  which  all  citizens  share,  but  whose  details  are  in 
the  hands  of  lawyers,  judges,  administrative  officers,  and  other 
persons  of  special  training  and  experience.  As  the  problems 
of  government  become  more  complicated  and  difficult,  it  will 
be  still  more  necessary  to  educate  a  special  body  of  experts 
for  the  work  of  legislation,  and  especially  of  administration. 

The  Study  of  the  Useful  Arts  in  Common  Schools.  —  It  is 
evidently  impossible  to  teach  all  pupils  all  the  arts  which 
supply  the  wants  of  men  to  such  an  extent  that  they  can  take 
them  up  and  make  a  living  by  them.  Any  one  trade  is  enough 
for  a  life.  But  it  is  possible  in  the  course  of  school  years  to 
give  to  all  citizens-sufficient  knowledge  of  the  various  contri- 
butions of  the  principal  arts  to  fit  them  for  forming  intelligent 
social  judgments. 

But  what  is  the  value  of  this  kind  of  knowledge?  In  the 
first  place,  a  general  survey  of  the  arts,  their  processes  and 
products,  would  enable  the  young  citizen  to  select  his  par- 
ticular calling.  Where  the  range  of  information  about  indus- 
tries is  narrow,  the  person  is  confined  to  a  narrow  range  of 
choices.  He  merely  knows  what  he  sees  in  his  own  little 
neighborhood.  It  is  not  fair  and  just  to  shut  up  a  youth  to 
such  a  range  of  vision.  In  after  years  he  may  have  a  right  to 
blame  his  early  teachers,  if  he  misses  the  best  opportunity  of 
employing  his  powers  because  he  did  not  know  what  was  going 
on  outside  of  his  immediate  field  of  vision.  Such  knowledge 
has  a  high  economic  value.  ^Ye  are  all  purchasers  or  sellers 
of  goods.  Shopping  is  not  a  mean  art,  if  it  be  done  with 
intelligence.  The  buying  of  groceries  and  other  commodities 
in  the  Saturday  market  day  asks  for  all  the  education  which 
schools  can  supply.     The  socializing  influence  of  this  knowl- 

H 


98  Social  Elements 


edge  is  not  beneath  notice.  It  is  incredible  that  a  community 
should  be  brought  up  in  familiarity  with  the  customs  and  arts 
of  other  peoples,  without  some  larger  and  juster  estimate  of 
the  service  of  each  to  all.  Morality  means  social  sympathy, 
and  this  comes  from  'knowledge.  The  intellectual  value  of 
the  study  is  very  great.  It  awakens  interest  on  all  sides  by 
presenting  in  endless  variety  new  objects  and  modes  of  action. 
By  reducing  the  facts  to  order  the  mind  itself  acquires  organ- 
izing capacity.  It  learns  to  sift  evidence,  to  trust  reliable 
sources,  and  to  respect  testimony.  The  grasp  of  the  imagina- 
tion is  made  more  sure  and  comprehensive.  As  the  citizen 
comes  to  years  of  political  responsibility  as  a  voter,  and  is 
called  upon  to  help  determine  questions  of  tariff  and  assess- 
ment, of  home  and  foreign  trade,  of  competition  and  treaties 
of  commerce,  his  mind  is  stored  with  an  orderly  fund  of  in- 
formation about  the  facts  which  should  direct  his  judgment. 

The  method  of  securing  this  knowledge  should  be  taught  in 
normal  schools.  There  is  room  here  for  only  brief  illustration. 
The  first  step  in  the  process  is  to  have  and  use  a  garden,  the 
miniature  of  the  agricultural  world.  There  flax  and  hemp 
may  be  planted,  and  in  due  time  their  fibres  may  be  studied 
in  the  fingers  of  inquisitive  children.  With  some  degree  of 
ingenuity  and  industry  a  teacher  may  even  erect  a  simple  loom 
and  illustrate  the  process  of  weaving.  Cocoons  of  moths  are 
easily  gathered  in  the  bushes,  and  may  be  made  to  illustrate 
the  culture  of  silk.  All  teaching  should  begin  with  action, 
and  there  is  boundless  room  for  action  in  teaching  the  nature 
of  the  arts  which  minister  to  mankind.  Kindergarten  methods 
are  well  adapted  to  the  beginning  of  the  process.  Drawing 
and  all  kinds  of  sloyd  and  manual  training  find  their  place 
under  such  a  controlling  idea. 

Many  teachers  have  gathered  valuable  museums  for  their 
schoolrooms,  by  which  they  can  illustrate  the  products  of 
many  places,  at  home  and  abroad.  One  teacher  of  a  modest 
school  began  a  system  of  correspondence  and  exchange  with 
persons  in  distant  countries,  and  after  patient  and  shrewd  trial 
found  herself  in  possession  of  an  apparatus  of  considerable 
value.  Maps,  pictures,  and  charts  are  helpful  means  of  pre- 
senting the  facts  which  are  typical. 


Social  Arts  99 


The  best  point  at  which  to  begin  in  our  ordinary  school 
system  is  with  geography  and  history.  And  here  it  seems 
very  clear  our  central  point  should  be  the  human  interest. 
The  world  should  be  studied,  not  merely  as  a  system  of  natural 
forces,  but  as  the  home  of  mankind.  "Geography  is  not 
merely  a  description  of  the  earth  as  an  inert  mass,  or  even  as 
a  mass  undergoing  geologic  changes  and  transformations,  but 
a  home  for  man,  and  interesting  to  us  chietly  as  it  affects  man. 
The  question  therefore  arises,  whether  the  earth  itself  is  the 
chief  object  of  study,  or  whether  man  and  his  surroundings 
become  the  leading  idea"  (A.  E.  Winship). 

From  the  direct  handling  and  observation  of  the  materials 
and  tools  of  industry  the  pupil  will  easily  be  led  to  the  study 
of  the  stages  of  the  process,  the  methods  of  raising  domestic 
animals,  the  shearing  of  sheep,  the  dyeing  of  wool,  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  fibres,  the  shipment.  A  single  illustration  must 
suffice.  Dr.  Winship  gives  a  story  of  the  various  breeds  of 
sheep  and  their  specific  merits;  of  the  kinds  of  wool,  the 
machinery  for  making  cloth  and  carpets,  and  the  history  of 
inventions;  the  competition  of  various  markets,  the  tariff  legis- 
lation demanded  by  the  producers,  the  statistics  of  manufacture 
in  the  centres  of  the  business,  and  the  sources  of  wool  supply 
in  the  world.  In  the  same  way  he  deals  with  silk,  cotton, 
flax;  and  the  method  might  be  extended  to  ores,  foods,  and 
every  kind  of  manufacture. 

The  Useful  Arts  must  not  be  overestimated.  —  "  These  are 
arts  to  be  thankful  for, —  each  one  as  it  is  a  new  direction  of 
human  power.  We  cannot  choose  but  respect  them.  Our 
civilization  is  made  up  of  a  million  contributions  of  this 
kind.  .  .  .  These  feats  that  we  extol  do  not  signify  so  much 
as  we  say.  These  boasted  arts  are  of  very  recent  origin. 
They  are  of  local  convenience,  but  do  not  really  add  to  our 
stature.  The  greatest  men  of  the  world  have  managed  not  to 
want  them.  Newton  was  a  great  man,  without  telegraph,  or 
gas,  or  steam  coach,  or  rubber  shoes,  or  lucifer  matches,  or 
ether  for  his  pain;  so  was  Shakespeare,  and  Alfred,  and  Scipio, 
and  Socrates"  (Emerson). 

II.  Language. — Among  the  social  systems  which  have 
grown  up  gradually  in  response  to  human  needs,  and  out  of 


100  Social  Elements 


the  infinite  interchange  of  thoughts  and  experiences,  is  the 
institution  of  language. 

Under  the  head  of  language  we  include  all  means  of  com- 
munication—  oral  speech,  writing,  gesture,  signs,  pictures  — 
which  can  give  a  reliable  sign  of  ideas  to  two  or  more  persons. 

What  is  the  Social  Function  of  Language  ?  —  It  is  a  means  of 
communication,  the  interchange  of  mental  life  in  the  commu- 
nity. Whether  we  wish  to  learn  and  get  or  teach  and  give,  we 
must  use  some  kind  of  language.  There  could  be  no  society 
without  this  medium.  Even  a  serious  defect  in  hearing  shuts 
one  off  from  his  fellows,  leaves  him  in  the  silence  of  a  cell 
while  he  may  be  walking  the  public  streets.  In  the  concert 
hall  or  the  political  meeting  deafness  builds  a  wall  about  the 
soul.  Where  blindness  and  deafness  go  together,  the  mind  is 
still  more  isolated,  as  in  the  instances  of  Laura  Bridgman 
and  Helen  Keller,  only  that  in  these  prophetic  and  hopeful 
cases  loving  science  and  art  made  openings  in  the  barrier 
and  brought  those  souls  into  touch  with  their  kind. 
.  This  social  intercourse  is  the  only  possibility  of  developing 
|  the  mind  in  powers  of  knowing,  feeling,  and  reasoning.  Only 
by  communication  are  the  dormant  powers  awakened  and 
developed.  The  infant  knows  nothing  at  its  birth,  and  must 
learn  all  by  sharing  the  common  fund  of  experience.  Unless 
there  is  some  gift  of  language,  the  infant  cannot  grow  into 
free  use  of  its  inherent  powers. 

Language,  in  its  more  advanced  forms,  is  a  means  of  regis- 
tering and  preserving  knowledge.  Each  discovery  is  costly 
and  painful.  The  results  of  experiment  need  to  be  kept  for 
posterity  or  held  in  trust  for  coming  ages.  Language  embalms 
and  treasures  the  results  of  thinking  and  trials  with  the  forces 
of  nature,  the  processes  of  art,  and  the  combinations  of  human 
activities.  Thus  the  very  pigmies  of  our  age  stand  on  the 
shoulders  of  the  ancient  giants,  and  sometimes  imagine  them- 
selves very  tall.  One  who  has  climbed  a  mountain  and  put  it 
under  his  feet  has  a  wider  range  of  view  than  when  he  was  on 
the  plain,  yet  personally  he  is  no  greater  in  stature  than  when 
he  looks  up  to  the  heights.  Perhaps  we  have  no  larger  average 
brains  than  the  men  of  Greece  and  Rome,  but  then  we  have 
all  the  knowledge  they  left  the  world.     We  begin  where  they 


Social  Arts 


left  off,  at  the  end  of  long  and  earnest  toil.  Our  schoolboys 
of  ten  years  recite  facts  which  Socrates,  and  even  Newton, 
could  not  have  discovered.  Our  scholars  at  twenty  have  the 
equipment  of  forty  centuries,  down  upon  which  they  look. 

Knowledge  is  not  merely  preserved,  but  transmitted  through 
language.  Thoughts  travel  across  the  aeons  of  time  and  across 
the  oceans  and  continents  in  space,  to  reach  the  most  distant 
children  of  the  race.  This  is  its  magic  power.  The  half- 
brute  monster,  Caliban,  in  Shakespeare's  play  The  Tempest, 
marvels  that  his  master,  Prospero,  has  such  wondrous  power 
stored  up  in  books.  Language  thus  distinguishes  the  full  man 
from  the  mere  animal,  although  animals  have  a  less  developed 
form  of  speech. 

With  communication  of  thoughts,  knowledges,  come  awak- 
ened emotions  and  quickened  wills.  A  fine  example  is  seen 
in  the  Renaissance,  the  re-birth  of  European  art,  science,  and 
social  energy.  It  was  primarily  due  to  the  re-discovery  of  the 
books  and  art  works  left  to  the  later  world  by  the  Greeks, 
Romans,  and  Hebrews.  All  men,  all  institutions,  are  served 
by  language.  We  cannot  trade,  travel,  study,  visit,  save  by 
means  of  this  medium. 

Language  has  a  Social  Origin.  —  It  is  futile  to  attempt  the 
task  of  imagining  what  might  have  been  if  human  beings  had 
lived  apart  as  individuals.  We  know  that  they  have  always 
lived  in  groups.  They  have  seen  the  same  visible  objects, 
heard  the  same  sounds  of  winds  and  waves  and  wild  beasts. 
They  have  needed  the  help  of  each  other  in  the  struggle  for 
existence.  Hence  they  have  learned  the  need  of  expression 
of  thoughts  and  purposes  and  wishes.  Reason  has  grown  up 
along  with  words  and  by  their  means.  Thinking  and  speech 
are  merely  two  aspects  of  the  same  experience.  Man  talks 
because  he  thinks  and  feels,  and  he  thinks  more  clearly  because 
he  talks  and  writes.  "Why  cannot  the  ape  speak?  because 
he  has  nothing  to  say."  That  is  the  story  of  the  rise  of  reason 
and  language  together  (Blumenbach,  quoted  by  von  Treitschke, 
Politik).  As  Mr.  Tarde  says,  "The  soul,  philologically,  makes 
itself  a  body." 

The  individual  adds  little  to  a  language  in  the  course  of  his 
life.      He  inherits  it  as  a  legacy  of  supreme  value  from  his 


102  Social  Elements 


ancestors.  Slowly  through  the  ages  words  are  added  as  emer- 
gencies arise,  as  new  objects  become  known  or  interesting,  as 
human  relations  become  more  complex.  Every  school  girl 
finds  a  great  dictionary  full  of  words,  the  inventions  of  cen- 
turies gone  by.  A  vocabulary  is  a  treasury  of  ideas.  Words 
are  full  of  philosophies  and  histories,  provoking  to  thought. 
Slang  and  profanity  betray  strange  neglect  of  inherited  re- 
sources. Until  one  has  exhausted  the  more  than  one  hundred 
thousand  words  of  an  ordinary  dictionary  it  seems  superfluous 
to  inject  corrupted  phrases  into  conversation.  We  can  under- 
stand why  thieves  should  desire  co  have  a  dialect  of  their  own, 
but  it  seems  quite  unnecessary  among  good  citizens.  Very 
rarely  a  bit  of  picturesque  verbal  invention  does  actually  en- 
rich the  language,  and  it  then  becomes  common  property. 

Modern  comparative  philology  is  opening  a  vast  field  of 
amazing  interest  in  revealing  the  nature  and  growth  of  all  lan- 
guages. This  science  has  made  much  progress  during  the 
century  in  classifying  tongues  according  to  their  elements  and 
forms,  as  animals  and  plants  are  classified  in  descriptive 
botany  and  zoology.  Not  content  with  the  mere  arrangement 
of  the  materials,  the  students  of  language  are  tracing,  by 
means  of  words,  the  evolution  of  the  race  in  different  parts  of 
the  world.  Every  word  is  a  monument,  petrified  history;  it 
embalms  in  itself  the  contents  of  thinking  and  volition  of 
races  dead  or  still  on  earth. 

The  acquisition  of  language  by  each  person  is  a  social 
process  and  depends  on  two  factors,  heredity  and  education. 
Each  person  inherits  physical  organs  for  speech  and  a  dispo- 
sition to  communicate.  Long  before  imitation  has  begun  the 
baby  utters  a  great  variety  of  sounds  in  the  cradle,  even  when 
alone.  But  no  great  advance  can  be  made  without  hearing 
and  imitating  others  in  acts  of  speech. 

III.  Social  Sx  stem  of  Publicity. — The  Greeks  have  left  to 
us  the  image  of  the  messenger  of  the  gods,  blown  forward  by 
the  unseen  winds,  himself  endowed  with  winged  feet  and  cap, 
swiftly  moving  on  some  errand  of  information  or  command. 
Language  is  our  social  messenger,  our  Mercury,  and  the  sys- 
tem of  publicity  is  the  machinery  of  power  and  the  wing  of 
speed. 


Social  Arts  103 


Classification  of  Means.  — First  of  all  there  is  conversation, 
the  publicity  of  the  personal  presence,  the  limited  audiences 
of  parlor,  gossip,  saloon,  street,  dinner  party,  and  social  recep- 
tion. The  assemblies  for  political,  commercial,  religious, 
and  educational  discussion  are  agencies  for  extending  pub- 
licity of  ideas.  Next  come  the  official  documents  printed, 
posted,  and  circulated  by  schools,  associations,-  churches,  gov- 
ernments, for  the  information  of  the  public  or  of  persons 
directly  interested.  Illustrations  will  readily  occur  to  any  one : 
the  statutes  of  councils  and  legislatures,  bulletins  posted  in 
factories  or  shops  for  the  direction  of  employees,  reports  of 
synods  and  conferences,  of  relief  societies  and  village  boards. 

The  system  of  transportation  and  communication,  already 
discussed,  is  tributary  to  this  system  of  publicity.  The  rail- 
road, the  telegraph,  the  postal  service,  the  express  companies 
forward  packets  of  knowledge,  germs  of  ideas,  impulses  of 
feeling. 

The  Newspaper.  — The  daily  and  weekly  newspaper  is  the 
most  conspicuous  organ  of  modern  society  for  receiving  and 
transmitting  thought.  It  is  not  under  the  direct  management 
of  the  state,  but  is  a  system  built  up  by  private  enterprise  to 
serve  the  public. 

The  function  of  the  newspaper  may  be  considered  from  two 
points  of  view,  that  of  the  owners  and  that  of  the  community. 
With  the  private  motives  of  the  publishers  we  have  little  here 
to  do.  The  proprietors  are  much  like  other  men,  and  they 
carry  on  their  particular  form  of  business  like  other  human 
creatures  in  the  same  society.  Philanthropy,  public  welfare, 
ambition,  ten  per  cent.,  amusement,  desire  to  leave  something 
to  their  children,  revenge,  religion,  —  these  are  quite  like 
the  forces  which  inspire  rolling  mills,  missionary  societies, 
tobacco  factories,  national  education  associations,  and  all  the 
rest.     "We  are  of  one  flesh,  after  all." 

But  if  we  turn  from  the  impossible  task  of  judging  private 
and  personal  motives  to  the  clearer  field  of  social  uses,  we  are 
not  so  liable  to  error.  Society  needs  and  wants  to  know  every 
morning,  when  it  rises  and  goes,  half-clad  and  eager,  to  the 
doorstep,  what  men  were  doing  and  saying  yesterday.  News- 
paper men  are  the  experts  who  study  what  it  is  society  wishes 


\ 


104  Social  Elements 


to  know,  who  find  it  out  and  print  it,  serving  it  hot  for  break- 
fast. The  newspaper  is  the  social  machinery  for  interpreting 
what  happens  to  be  uppermost  in  the  public  mind  at  a  given 
moment.  It  sells  information  and  takes  a  small  commission 
on  each  item.  It  is  a  labor-saving  machine,  which  spares 
us  the  necessity  of  loafing  about  the  town  square  and  the 
city  hall  trying  to  find  out  what  only  trained  men  can  dis- 
cover. 

The  materials  of  a  newspaper  are  classified,  roughly  speak- 
ing, into  news  items,  general  and  local,  interpretations  of  these 
items  by  experts,  and  advertisements  of  goods  and  services. 
The  news  items  are  reports  of  the  recent  words  and  deeds  of 
men  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  so  far  as  they  are  interesting  to 
the  readers  of  a  particular  locality.  The  first  item  one  can 
see  through  a  blanket  sheet  of  forty-eight  pages,  is  his  own 
name.  It  may  be  in  an  obscure  corner,  half-way  down  a 
tedious  column  of  the  egotism  of  other  people.  It  is  a  dull 
page  that  lacks  this  lustrous  bit  of  news.  Next  to  the  "Ego  " 
is  the  expanded  self  of  our  neighborhood.  We  do  not  care 
to  pay  for  the  society  sayings  and  doings  of  some  town  a  thou- 
sand miles  away.  Such  items  grow  cold  in  the  next  county 
and  freeze  to  ice  at  a  state  line.  Yet  we  do  wish  to  know 
some  things,  as  citizens,  of  our  own  commonwealth,  such  as 
the  acts  of  the  legislature,  the  decisions  of  the  highest  court, 
the  pageant  of  a  governor's  ball  (if  he  permits  it),  or  the 
agricultural  show.  As  citizens  of  the  United  States,  we  all 
have  some  interest  in  the  discussions  and  acts  of  Congress  and 
the  declarations  of  the  President  and  his  cabinet.  Thus,  as 
the  area  widens  the  item  must  be  very  large  and  striking  which 
xan  attract  our  attention.  This  instinct  is  not  altogether  in- 
sane and  wicked.  It  is  necessary.  Our  purpose  in  reading 
news  is  to  make  better  personal  adjustments  of  our  own  envi- 
ronment. If  we  have  goods  to  sell  or  service  to  render,  it 
must  be  to  persons  close  at  hand.  The  opinion  of  great  people 
in  a  distant  country  does  not  much  affect  us,  while  the  con- 
tempt or  hatred  of  our  meanest  townsmen  stings  us  to  death. 
The  newspaper  gives  us  a  picture  of  the  state  of  things  about 
us,  and  enables  us  in  the  morning  to  plan  our  day  so  as  to  sell 
our  grain  at  the  highest  price,  to  correct  a  falsehood  which 


Social  Arts  105 


may  be  circulating,  to  suit  our  time  of  making  a  trip  to  agree 
with  the  motions  of  a  customer  or  a  rival. 

The  interpretations  of  news  are  made  by  experts  whose 
business  it  is  to  receive  with  meekness  the  numberless  sugges- 
tions about  the  method  of  conducting  their  business  and  —  to 
do  as  they  please  or  must.  As  an  item  comes  Hying  into  a 
telegraph  office  it  is  like  the  broken  wing  of  a  bird,  or  even  a 
single  feather,  a  fragment  without  meaning.  The  editor  must 
name  the  kind  of  bird  to  which  the  fragment  belongs.  He 
must  give  a  history  of  the  affair  up  to  the  moment  when  the 
message  rushes  upon  the  community. 

The  advertising  columns  are  hired  out  to  people  at  fixed  or 
contracted  prices  for  them,  to  tell  on  their  own  responsibility, 
what  they  think  of  themselves  and  their  wares.  Presumably 
a  man  knows  more  about  himself  and  the  goods  he  offers  than 
any  one  else.  Society  desires  to  enjoy  his  special  opportu- 
nities of  information.  Hence  the  advertisements.  The  news- 
paper serves  the  public,  and  takes  a  commission,  money  or 
other  consideration,  from  pumpkins  to  fortunes  or  foreign 
consulships. 

Thus  in  its  several  departments,  with  a  bountiful  menu,  the 
daily  journal  lays  before  us  knowledge  about  the  world  we  live 
in.  This  is  its  social  function.  To  state  the  function  is  to 
give  the  explanation,  and  at  the  same  time  to  form  a  standard 
by  which  the  institution  must  be  judged.  According  to  its 
social  efficiency  in  giving  the  community  the  truth,  the  truth 
worth  telling,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  should  we  pass  social 
verdicts  upon  the  daily  journal.  It  is  here  mentioned  as  one 
of  the  chief  agencies  of  publicity.  As  such  it  is  indispensable 
in  modern  life. 

The  Periodical  Magazine  as  a  Means  of  Public  Communica- 
tion. —  The  immense  sale  of  the  magazines  in  this  country  is 
a  phenomenon  of  vast  moment.  The  periodical  can  be  more 
deliberate  than  the  daily,  and  can  be  made  more  trustworthy, 
even  if  it  is  a  little  slower.  It  can  be  printed  on  finer  paper 
and  offer  really  artistic  pictures  as  illustrations.  The  artist 
has  a  poor  chance  to  show  his  skill  on  the  thin,  coarse  paper 
used  in  the  daily  journal.  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that 
the  attractive  cheap  magazines  should  have  a  large  circulation. 


to6  Social  Elements 


It  is  disheartening,  however,  to  note  the  quality  of  many  of 
them.  Of  course  it  is  desirable  that  each  class  and  calling 
should  have  periodicals  adapted  to  its  own  professional  or 
educational  needs,  and  that  amusement  should  be  supplied 
from  this  source.  But  it  is  pitiful  that  so  many  of  the  articles 
should  be  written  by  persons  who  have  no  adequate  prepara- 
tion for  their  work,  and  that  so  large  a  body  of  misinformation 
should  be  kept  in  circulation.  But  we  do  not  require  a  public 
Censor.  Under  the  rule  of  liberty  and  competition  among 
institutions  we  have  reason  to  hope  that  the  best  periodicals 
will  at  last  gain  confidence,  and  that  a  generation  educated 
in  the  public  schools  will  detect  and  punish  those  who  seek  to 
mislead  them.  At  present  there  is  abundant  need  for  careful 
criticism  and  exposure  of  ignorance  and  fallacy.  There  are 
so  many  such  papers  of  the  highest  order  that  the  inferior 
ones  have  no  reason  for  existence. 

The  Book  as  a  Means  of  Publicity.  —  The  function  of  the 
book  is  very  different  from  that  of  the  newspaper  or  of  the 
magazine.  The  book  has  for  its  function  the  publication  of 
the  ripe  results  of  thinking  and  investigation,  or  of  completed 
artistic  production.  In  speeches  and  lectures,  in  occasional 
fragments  of  essays  and  articles,  one  may  test  his  partial 
thoughts  by  submitting  them  to  criticism.  If  there  is  any- 
thing vital  in  the  study  it  may  be  worth  while  to  give  it  a  more 
permanent  form.  Where  a  connected  presentation  of  a  large 
subject  is  required,  the  daily  and  the  magazine  both  fail.  A 
more  adequate  form  is  demanded  by  those  who  seriously 
undertake  the  mastery  of  a  difficult  subject.  The  organ  for 
publicity  in  such  a  case  is  the  book. 

The  Publishing  House  is  the  social  agency  for  manufacturing 
and  marketing  intellectual  and  artistic  wares.  The  great  pub- 
lishing firms  have  been  among  the  most  important  agencies  for 
the  diffusion  of  culture.  It  is  true  they  have  made  mistakes 
and  have  left  genius  in  obscurity.  It  is  true  that  many  of  the 
most  thorough  scientific  works  cannot  be  published  for  general 
circulation  by  private  enterprise.  It  is  also  true  that  many 
an  ambitious  author,  heart-sore  when  his  manuscript  was 
rejected,  has  hastily  concluded  that  all  publishers  are  a  bigoted 
and  narrow-minded  and  mercenary  body  of  men.     But  even 


Social  Arts  IOJ 


authors  sometimes  make  mistakes  in  their  judgments  of  them- 
selves, and  probably  it  would  be  found  that  the  better  publishers 
have,  on  the  whole,  acted  as  "fool-killers  "  for  the  people,  and 
protected  them  from  a  deluge  of  ill-considered  words.  They 
have  a  direct  and  economic  interest  in  discovering,  as  quickly 
as  possible,  a  work  that  has  any  sort  of  value  or  interest,  and 
they  bring  to  this  task  special  gifts  and  training,  and  those 
who  are  successful  are  selected  by  a  process  of  extirpation  of 
the  incompetent  who  have  tried  and  failed.  The  declaration 
of  the  social  function  of  the  publishing  house  reveals  its  cause 
and  the  criterion  of  judgment. 

The  Public  Library  is  an  institution  of  publicity  of  increas- 
ing importance  and  growing  power.  Its  function  is  to  select, 
purchase,  store,  and  keep  in  convenient  form  the  various 
journals,  periodicals,  and  books  which  are  required  by  the 
community,  and  to  keep  them  in  circulation.  A  public  library 
is  a  cooperative  medium  for  the  town.  Each  citizen  can  by 
this  means  enjoy  access  to  hundreds  of  books  and  magazines 
in  a  collection  too  large  for  the  mansion  of  the  most  wealthy 
citizen.  The  public  free  library  is  to  be  more  and  more  the 
centre  of  the  intellectual  life  of  our  nation,  in  city  and  coun- 
try. Its  power  as  a  medium  of  communicating  knowledge 
and  diffusing  the  ripest  thought  on  all  subjects  is  beyond  cal- 
culation or  prevision. 

All  these  organs  of  publicity  gather  the  impressions  and 
thoughts  of  men  from  millions  of  private  sources,  hold  them 
up  in  the  blazing  light  and  promote  the  process  of  testing,  of 
judging,  and  of  diffusing  ideas. 

IV.  The  Fine  Arts  and  their  Social  Ministry.  —  "What  is 
called  civilization  is  not  only  an  unveiling  of  the  laws  of  poli- 
tics, agriculture,  mechanics,  hydrostatics,  and  magnetism,  but 
it  is  also  a  perpetual  production  or  discovery  of  all  that  is 
pleasing  to  the  sentiments.  ...  It  is  impossible  for  the 
human  mind  to  unfold  strength  without  unfolding  toward 
beauty.  .  .  .  When  wisdom  founds  a  republic,  then  taste 
comes  to  adorn  the  republic"  (David  Swing). 

The  Institutions  of  the  Fine  Arts  exhibit  an  element  so  at- 
tractive and  important  that  they  deserve  a  special  study.  Let 
memory  recall  the  various  manifestations  of  decorative  taste, 


io8  Social  Elements 


U 


of  aesthetic  creation,  of  artistic  fancy  which  appear  in  all  the 
works  of  man.  The  dwelling  and  its  surroundings,  where  the 
residents  have  risen  above  the  merest  animal  life,  show  a  touch 
of  beauty  which  deserves,  even  in  partial  failure,  our  sympa- 
thy and  cheer.  It  is  happily  not  unusual  to  see  a  hut  of  logs, 
where  the  pinch  of  poverty  is  severely  felt,  covered  and  adorned 
with  climbing  vines.  In  summer  kind  nature  assists  the  gra- 
cious hand  of  the  weary  mother,  and  the  rude  shelter  bursts 
into  blossom.  The  front  yard  of  very  plain  habitations  may 
display  a  delightful  array  of  flowers,  hedge,  and  velvet  lawn. 
In  the  packed  tenements  of  crowded  cities,  the  dreary  hide- 
ousness  is  frequently  relieved  by  a  white  curtain  edged  with 
cheap  lace,  a  row  of  flowers  on  the  window  ledge,  and  a  pict- 
ure on  the  wall.  As  the  very  snows  of  arctic  regions  produce 
their  own  objects  of  beauty,  so  the  wintry  life  of  penury  will 
persist  in  showing  that  the  artistic  instinct  is  never  quite  frozen 
out.  In  the  mansions  of  wealth  and  taste,  where  refinement 
is  endowed  with  purchasing  power,  we  discover  the  prophecy 
of  what  all  homes  will  have  in  the  good  time  coming. 

Art  finds  its  way  into  industry  and  manufacture.  Perhaps 
it  is  a  step-child  in  those  arid  and  smoky  regions  where  roar- 
ing machinery,  black  chimneys,  blasted  heaths,  and  disorderly 
array  of  broken  materials  have  invoked  the  impatient  curses 
of  Ruskin.  Machinery  can  never  get  beyond  the  lower  forms 
of  imitation,  and  must  "follow  copy."  It  is  more  the  minis- 
ter of  animal  comfort  and  mediocre  neatness  than  of  angelic 
beauty.  Yet  we  see  the  locomotive  driver,  himself  in  grimy 
garments,  decorating  his  engine  with  flags,  and  polishing  the 
brass  and  nickel  plate  until  it  shines  again.  Useful  tools, 
made  for  dusty  places,  will  often  show  the  marks  of  artistic 
finish  and  decorative  design.  An  impulse  which  can  survive 
in  such  a  famine  of  opportunity  must  have  deep  roots  in 
human  nature. 

In  the  free  and  open  highway,  along  the  streets  and  boule- 
vards, and  in  the  parks,  there  are  nobler  opportunities  for  art. 
The  bright  sky  is  a  canopy,  and  floating  clouds  of  changing 
gray  and  gold  and  crimson  glorify  its  wondrous  depths.  The 
broad  spaces  of  land  lie  ready  for  the  touch  of  grace.  The 
landscape  gardener  plans  rows  of    trees,  masses  of  bushes, 


Social  Arts 


109 


beautiful  crags  and  ravines,  and  compels  even  forbidding  ele- 
ments to  satisfy  the  love  of  beauty. 

Public  buildings  display  the  taste  of  communities.  Photo- 
graphs have  made  familiar  the  magic  and  fleeting  glories  of 
the  White  City,  whose  memories  are  transforming  our  towns. 
Public  libraries  offer  their  walls  for  mural  paintings,  statuary, 
carving  in  wood  and  stone,  and  display  of  grace  where  all 
can  enjoy. 

The  church  has  always  been  a  patron  of  art.  Devotion 
always  called  for  fitting  expression.  Worshippers  think  that 
the  best  work  must  honor  the  alone  Perfect.  Nothing  inferior 
seems  suitable  or  morally  correct.  The  edifice  is  made  as 
noble,  vast,  and  finely  proportioned  as  the  means  of  the  con- 
gregation and  the  talent  of  the  architect  can  make  it.  The 
windows  are  glorious  with  color  and  suggestive  with  historic 
pictures.  The  organ,  from  behind  its  decorated  screen, 
becomes  the  majestic  interpreter  of  musical  masterworks.  The 
people  in  their  assembly  bring  to  the  help  of  their  faith  and 
aspiration  sublime  anthems  and  chorals.  The  enjoyment  of 
the  beautiful  mingles  with  the  incense  of  prayer. 

When  some  great  event  is  to  be  celebrated,  —  a  declaration 
of  independence,  the  birth  of  a  hero,  the  completion  of  a  rail- 
road, the  rebuilding  of  a  burned  city,  —  then  the  people 
become  a  procession,  and  the  fete  is  an  artistic  triumph.  Art 
is  a  social  possession  and  a  social  product.  It  belongs  to  all 
social  activities  and  institutions,  pervasive  and  universal. 

The  Forms  of  Art  are  endlessly  diversified  and  combined. 
Literature  may  be  regarded  as  the  central  stock  of  all  fine  arts, 
the  direct  heir  of  the  primal  beauty.  Perhaps  early  men  imi- 
tated the  notes  of  birds,  the  murmur  of  waters,  the  rustle  of 
leaves,  the  plaintive  cries  of  stricken  animals.  From  early 
ages  have  come  down  to  us  rhythmic  utterances  which  were 
composed  and  carried  in  memory  until  the  art  of  writing 
came  to  embody  them  in  lasting  form.  Indian  Vedas  and 
Homeric  songs  of  battle,  love,  and  worship  have  thus  been 
preserved.  They  have  lived  because  they  were  musical,  and 
full  of  appeals  to  the  common  human  heart.  The  ugly  tends 
to  perish;  the  dull  and  uninteresting  decays;  the  merely  tech- 
nical, individual,  and  egoistic  falls  into  the  grave;  but  that 


^ 


no  Social  Elements 


which  speaks  to  all  is  cared  for  by  all,  and  this  remains. 
Oral  and  written  speech  —  poetry  and  prose,  epic  and  lyric, 
history  and  fable,  maxim  and  oration,  myth  and  fiction  — 
carry  down  to  us  the  life  of  our  ancestors.  They  set  us  sing- 
ing and  speaking.  Homer  and  Hesiod  and  numerous  name- 
less bards  and  prophets  are  our  contemporaries. 

From  the  beginning,  some  form  of  dance  has  accompanied 
rhythmic  speech.  Animals,  savages,  children,  and  civilized 
adults  seek  to  express,  in  regulated  motion,  the  feelings  of 
the  soul.  Religion,  love,  warlike  anger,  fierce  courage,  find 
expression  in  march  and  circling  dance. 

Music  is  that  art  which,  alone  or  married  to  immortal  verse, 
is  most  nearly  akin  to  worship.  On  its  material  side  music 
obeys  rigid  mathematical  laws,  while  on  its  emotional  side  it 
speaks  out  of  the  depths  of  the  spirit,  out  of  a  mystic  sense 
of  what  is  public  and  general. 

The  drama  is  that  ancient  art  which  responds  to  the  uni- 
versal desire  to  enact  life  artificially.  Men  grow  weary  of  the 
monotony  of  their  little  individual  existence.  They  tire  of 
the  repetition,  stale  scenery,  the  level  and  barren  life.  Old 
joys  lose  flavor  and  interest.  Personal  Callings  bring  up  the 
same  threadbare  stories.  But  in  the  drama,  read  and  acted, 
all  human  life  comes  into  view.  Kings  move  in  pomp  across 
the  mimic  stage;  nobles  of  mediaeval  times  rise  from  the  dead 
to  talk  as  courtiers  and  lovers;  groups  of  distant  peoples 
assemble  to  show  their  unfamiliar  costumes  and  reveal  their 
thoughts.  Life  in  an  hour  becomes  rich  with  a  world's  ex- 
perience.  The  spectator  is  transported  out  of  himself  and  lives 
a  thousand  lives  in  one.  Hence  the  power  for  evil  as  well  as 
for  good  in  this  fascinating  art  which  paints  with  the  intensity 
of  life  itself.  In  the  opera,  poetry,  music,  acting,  dance, 
painting,  sculpture,  fencing  —  all  arts  —  seem  to  be  combined. 
It  is  the  luxury  of  dramatic  art. 

In  architecture  man  takes  the  forms  of  dwelling,  and  trans- 
forms the  rude  hut,  the  primeval  cave,  the  circle  of  unhewn 
stones,  into  palaces,  temples,  and  galleries.  It  is  not  enough 
to  keep  out  frost  and  rain.  Man  is  a  creature  of  large  dis- 
course, and  not  easily  satisfied.  He  must  build  something 
noble,  large,  spacious,  lofty,  beautiful,  for  his  home,  his  jus- 
tice, his  music,  his  worship. 


Social  Arts  in 


Drawing  and  painting  are  forms  of  speech,  of  communica- 
tion from  man  to  man.  On  the  margins  of  his  manuscripts, 
the  handles  of  his  tools  and  weapons,  his  very  cooking-uten- 
sils, man  has  wished  to  manifest  his  thought  of  beauty.  Sav- 
age and  child,  seeing  an  elk  or  bird,  is  eager  to  reproduce  its 
image.  Any  material  that  nature  offers  will  be  used  —  ivory, 
walrus  tusk,  an  edge  of  flint,  a  tooth.  At  first  the  story  is 
rudely  told,  afterwards  more  gracefully  and  adequately.  From 
the  first  sketch  of  the  cave-dweller  to  the  Madonnas  of  Raphael 
there  was  an  unbroken  succession  of  artists.  Each  genius 
taught  his  pupil  how  to  excel  himself. 

The  Aim  of  the  ALsthetic  Effort  is  to  express  Life.  —  It  is 
not  concerned  with  beauty  and  sublimity  alone,  but  with  all 
that  is  interesting.  Ugly  objects  are  made  interesting  by 
artists.  "We  believe  that  the  aesthetic  sentiment  is  identical 
with  self-conscious  life,  with  life  that  is  conscious  of  its  own 
subjective  intensity  and  harmony;  beauty,  we  have  said,  may 
be  defined  as  a  perception  or  an  act  that  stimulates  life  simul- 
taneously on  its  three  sides,  sensibility,  intelligence,  will,  — 
and  that  produces  pleasure  by  the  immediate  consciousness  of 
this  general  stimulation  "  (Guyau). 

Art  is  a  Social  Instrument.  ■ —  It  serves  the  social  end  of 
setting  before  many  a  common  sense  of  enjoyment  and  inspi- 
ration, of  truth,  larger  reality,  common  purpose.  Art  unites 
and  harmonizes,  attunes  the  discordant  earth  sounds  to  the 
dominant  tones  of  widest  human  interests.  It  introduces  new 
elements  into  life,  as  with  fresh  strains  of  the  orchestra  a 
course  is  served  at  a  banquet. 

The  Fine  Arts  are  in  their  very  Nature  Sociable.  —  The 
pleasures  of  fine  art  are  essentially  in  a  communicable  order 
of  pleasures.  A  house,  as  a  dwelling,  can  be  used  by  only 
one  family,  but  if  it  is  beautiful  it  becomes  a  possession  for 
the  multitudes.  It  contradicts  the  very  idea  of  art  to  enclose 
a  flower  garden  behind  a  high  stone  wall,  or  to  keep  great  pic- 
tures shut  up  in  private  collections.  Raphael  did  not  paint 
for  a  few  rich  nabobs,  but  for  mankind.  It  is  the  insolence 
and  meanness  of  riches  to  buy  up  the  works  of  genius  and  re- 
serve them  for  the  delectation  of  nobodies. 

The  pleasures  of  fine  art  are  disinterested  as  well  as  com- 


112  Social  Elements 


municable.  "They  are  not  such  as  nourish  a  man's  body  nor 
add  to  his  riches;  they  are  not  such  as  can  gratify  him,  when 
he  receives  them,  by  the  sense  of  advantage  or  superiority  over 
his  fellow-creatures;  they  are  not  such  as  one  human  being 
can  in  any  sense  receive  exclusively  from  the  object  which 
bestows  them.  ...  It  is  evidently  characteristic  of  a  beauti- 
ful building  that  its  beauty  cannot  be  monopolized,  but  can 
be  seen  and  admired  by  the  inhabitants  of  a  whole  city  and 
by  all  visitors  for  all  generations.  The  same  thing  is  true  of 
a  picture  or  a  statue.  .  .  .  Music  is  composed  to  be  sung  or 
played  for  the  enjoyment  of  many  at  a  time,  and  for  such 
enjoyment  a  hundred  years  hence  as  much  as  to-day.  Poetry 
is  written  to  be  read  by  all  readers  forever  who  care  for  the 
ideas  and  feelings  of  the  poet,  and  can  apprehend  the  mean- 
ing and  melody  of  his  language"  (Article  "Fine  Arts,"  Ency- 
clopedia Biitannica,  by  Professor  Colvin). 

There  is  a  Special  Need  of  Art  Culture  in  America.  —  Our 
people  have  long  been  engaged  in  a  struggle  to  gain  mastery 
over  nature.  Millions  of  immigrants  have  flocked  to  our 
shores  as  refugees  from  poverty.  Puritan  founders  were  busy 
with  austere  questions  of  conscience.  We  have  been  an  agri- 
cultural people,  and  plough  handles  make  strong  rather  than 
graceful  hands.  It  is  time  for  our  century  plant  of  material 
conquest  to  blossom  into  art.  Our  expositions  of  1876  and 
1893  have  wakened  the  nation  to  a  new  yearning,  a  thirst 
which  beauty  alone  can  quench.  Illustrated  magazines  are 
making  the  works  of  artists  popular.  Public  schools  diffuse 
a  taste  for  finer  literature,  drawing,  designing,  modelling. 
Nature  studies  attract  attention  to  forms  and  colors  in  the 
world  about  us.  Ecclesiastical  traditions  bring  from  the 
mother  country  the  pre-Puritan  suggestions  of  illuminated 
anthem  books,  "storied  windows  richly  dight,"  reverent 
rituals,  and  stately  worship.  Landscape  gardening  is  trans- 
figuring our  vast  expanse,  our  broad  boulevards,  our  parks, 
our  river  shores,  our  wild  reserves,  our  Niagara  and  Mackinac, 
our  country  lanes,  village  squares,  and  railway  stations.  Ugli- 
ness is  losing  sacredness  and  becoming  intolerable. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization 

"The  division  of  labor,  the  multiplication  of  the  arts  of  peace,  which  is 
nothing  but  a  large  allowance  to  each  man  to  choose  his  work  according 
to  his  faculty,  —  to  live  by  his  better  hand,  —  (ills  the  state  with  useful  and 
happy  laborers  ;  ami  they,  creating  demand  by  the  very  temptation  of  their 
productions,  are  rapidly  and  surely  rewarded  by  good  sale:  and  what  a 
public  and  ten  commandments  their  work  thus  becomes!  " — Emerson. 

"I  do  not  know  the  history  of  that  five-pound  note,  but  well  aware  I 
am  that  it  grew  slowly  out  of  pence  and  silver,  and  that  Jamie  denied  his 
passions  many  things  for  this  great  hour.  His  sacrifices  Watered  his  young 
heart  and  kept  it  fresh  and  tender.  Let  us  no  longer  cheat  our  consciences 
by  talking  of  filthy  lucre.  Money  may  always  be  a  beautiful  thing.  It  is 
we  who  make  it  grimy."  (Jamie  was  a  true  Scotch  son  who  saved  money 
for  a  gift  to  his  poor  widow  mother.)  —  J.  M.  Barrie,  A  Window  in 
Thrums. 

4  ride  across  the  state  on  a  rapid  train  will  present  to  the 
watchful  observer  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours  many  kinds  of 
industrial  activities.  Most  of  the  space  is  covered  with  farms, 
divided  into  meadows,  pastures,  ploughed  lands,  orchards, 
gardens,  yards,  and  all  these  are  devoted  chiefly  to  the  pro- 
duction of  the  materials  for  food  and  clothing.  If  the  forests 
have  not  already  been  destroyed  in  our  wasteful  way,  the  trees 
may  furnish  boards  and  beams  for  houses  and  wood  for  fuel. 
Oil  wells  are  bringing  up  materials  for  warmth  and  light. 
The  sooty  miners  issue  from  the  dark  caverns  whence  they  are 
blasting  out  coal  for  hearths,  furnaces,  and  locomotives.  At 
the  smallest  cross-roads  village  a  blacksmith  is  shoeing  the 
feet  of  horses,  repairing  wagons  and  agricultural  implements, 
and  exercising  his  universal  genius  on  setting  right  all  kinds 
of  damaged  utensils  and  machines.  At  the  large  towns  there 
are  glimpses  of  general  stores,  carpenter  shop,  mill,  photo- 
graph gallery,  cheese  factory,  and  canning  establishment.  In 
i  113 


H4  Social  Elements 


small  cities  the  industries  are  still  more  varied  and  special, 
and  when  we  arrive  for  the  first  time  at  the  capital  city,  it 
bewilders  us  with  its  variety  and  tempts  us  to  spend  more 
than  we  can  afford.  Each  man  has  his  trade  or  calling,  and 
seems  bent  on  making  one  article,  or,  at  most,  very  few 
objects.  The  shoemaker  makes  more  shoes  than  his  family 
can  wear  in  a  lifetime;  the  farmer  raises  enough  grain  in  a 
year  to  feed  him  and  his  children  many  years;  the  "store- 
keeper "  buys  a  huge  mass  of  cloth  and  groceries  only  to  get 
rid  of  them  as  rapidly  as  possible.  The  laboring  man  toils 
at  his  narrow  task  though  he  may  dislike  it.  The  berry-picker 
dares  not  consume  the  fruit  she  gathers  in  the  employer's  field. 
What  does  it  all  mean?  Can  we  discover  any  order,  purpose, 
system,  in  this  motley  picture  of  the  day's  ride? 

In  order  to  map  out  the  province  of  social  welfare  it  is 
necessary  for  us  to  ask  the  economist  for  permission  to  cross 
his  field,  since  it  constitutes  a  very  essential  district  in  the 
territory  we  have  undertaken  to  survey.  The  political  econo- 
mist will  not  object  to  this  trespass  on  his  preserves,  for  he 
is  a  good-natured  person,  by  no  means  given  to  a  "dismal 
science,"  as  Carlyle  ungraciously  called  economics.  His  is  a 
science  of  entrancing  interest  and  immense  social  value.  The 
economist  studies  that  he  may  deliver  knowledge  of  his  region 
to  other  students  of  the  larger  aspects  of  society,  and  he  holds 
the  power  to  check  the  vagaries  of  speculation  by  his  severe 
and  painstaking  methods,  to  which  the  world  owes  so  much 
of  its  deliverance  from  visionary  and  impracticable  schemes. 
One  of  the  perils  of  our  time  is  the  disease  of  economic 
hysterics.  Genius,  it  is  well  said,  is  characterized  by  sanity, 
self-control,  balance,  and  all-sided  consideration.  It  is  our 
duty  to  wait  until  we  have  taken  into  account  all  the  materials 
for  a  judgment.  Heat  without  light  is  a  real  danger.  Patience 
is  a  duty  of  every  person  who  proposes  in  any  way  to  influence 
public  opinion  or  lead  in  social  action.  A  hasty  glance  at  cer- 
tain economic  topics  may  at  least  serve  to  prevent  the  forma- 
tion of  a  judgment  of  our  problems  of  welfare  without  even 
knowing  of  the  existence  of  economic  elements.  Their  further 
and  adequate  discussion  belongs  to  the  particular  field  of  study 
called  political  economy. 


Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization  115 

/.  Wants. — The  wants  of  men  show  through  all  their  in- 
dustries. Economic  study  is  a  consideration  of  the  social 
method  of  satisfying  wants.  Our  study  of  the  individual  in 
our  third  chapter  has  already  revealed  to  us  the  appetites  and 
desires  which  are  in  all  human  beings  and  prompt  them  to 
effort.  The  woman  bakes  bread  because  she  is  hungry  or 
knows  that  she  and  her  family  will  soon  become  hungry.  The 
farmer  fattens  swine  and  salts  pork  in  autumn  that  there  may 
be  meat  for  the  winter.  The  girl  learns  to  play  on  the  piano 
because  she  likes  music,  or  because  she  will  earn  money  by 
the  art.  Thus  we  make,  buy,  and  sell  in  order  to  satisfy  our 
wants. 

The  desire  to  consume,  to  use,  to  enjoy,  is  the  prime  spring 
of  work  and  business,  from  the  simple  act  of  roasting  potatoes 
to  manipulating  a  railroad.  Our  wishes  are  indefinite,  prac- 
tically boundless  and  endless.  Pearls,  meat,  music,  books, 
tobacco, —  where  is  the  end  of  the  catalogue? 

Industry  and  business  rest  on  all  other  forms  of  activity  and 
interest.  Our  animal  nature  demands  food,  drink,  clothing, 
dwellings,  comforts  of  many  kinds.  Our  aesthetic  craving 
calls  for  pictures,  beautiful  ornaments  and  decoration,  lawns 
and  flower  beds,  statues,  music  and  musical  instruments.  Our 
intellectual  cravings  make  us  hungry  for  books,  papers,  libra- 
ries, schools,  lectures;  and  all  these  cost  money.  Ourreligious 
beliefs  and  aspirations  call  for  churches,  ministers,  sermons, 
missions,  organs,  singers;  and  these  require  wealth.  Industry 
and  business  are  created  by  all  the  human  desires. 

On  the  other  hand,  all  life  waits  for  material  goods  from 
industry  and  business.  All  the  articles  and  services  which 
satisfy  our  various  intellectual,  physical,  and  religious  wants 
are  supplied  out  of  the  busy  system  of  industry  and  profes- 
sional toil.  Economic  life  is  the  means  of  meeting  these 
higher  demands.  Work  itself  shares  the  dignity  and  honor, 
or  the  shame  and  wrong,  of  the  ends  it  serves. 

The  water  of  a  mill-race  is  the  direct  material  force  which 
sets  in  motion  the  great  and  small  wheels  of  a  grist  mill,  but 
the  miller's  purpose  to  make  money  is  the  spiritual  force  inside 
all  wheels,  and  the  purpose  to  make  money  is  the  effect  of 
many  kinds  of  desire.     Man's  wishes  blow  on  the  sails  of  all 


n6  Social  Elements 


the  ships  of  lake  and  ocean.  Man's  ambitions  fire  his  engines 
and  propel  his  trains.  Steam  and  lathes,  pulleys  and  bands, 
are  but  the  dumb  slaves  of  man's  soul,  its  longings  and  resolves. 

The  civilized  man  is  a  person  of  many  more  wants  than  the 
savage,  and  he  has  larger  foresight.  The  savage,  especially  in 
a  warm  climate,  is  content  with  a  few  articles  of  diet,  an  apron 
for  clothing,  a  roof  of  bark,  and  fifty  cents'  worth  of  tools  and 
weapons.  Until  a  group  of  men  desire  the  comforts  and  re- 
finements of  civilization  they  will  work  fitfully  and  rest  a  good 
deal.  Until  the  lazy  and  irregular  workman  begins  to  want 
three  rooms  to  his  house,  instead  of  one  chamber  with  its  clay 
floor,  and  until  he  sees  the  value  of  glass  in  the  windows  and 
a  door-bell,  he  will  lie  in  the  sun  four  days  of  the  week  and 
trust  Providence  for  the  rest.  Civilization  implies  the  multi- 
plication of  wants,  the  improvement  in  methods  of  making 
things,  and  the  elevation  of  grades  of  goods. 

But  wishes  and  desires  are  not  the  immediate  cause  of 
wealth.  We  may  have  a  wishing-cap  on  the  head,  but  we  must 
take  a  trowel  in  the  hand. 

//.  Work.  —  These  wants,  in  all  their  variety,  cannot  be 
satisfied  without  work  upon  nature.  The  physical  world  con- 
tains what  is  indispensable  to  our  life.  There  is  the  material 
for  food  and  shelter  and  clothing.  There  are  the  possibilities 
of  paper,  music,  railroads,  and  all  that  nourishes  the  body,  is 
interesting  to  the  intellect,  and  charming  to  the  taste.  The 
heat  that  warms  us,  the  stores  of  energy  by  which  we  move 
and  strive  and  think,  are  in  nature. 

But  the  objects  of  desire  will  not  come  to  man  without  work. 
Even  those  savages  who  subsist  on  nuts  and  berries  must  pick 
them  and  devour  them.  If  we  enjoy  a  few  of  the  bare  neces- 
sities of  life,  we  can  sometimes  secure  them,  in  sparsely  settled 
regions,  with  very  brief  effort  and  by  simple  means;  but  in 
older  communities,  where  wants  are  multiplied  and  industry 
is  complicated,  the  simple  old  ways  would  leave  us  to  perish. 

It  is  true  that  certain  classes  in  most  communities  do  not 
work  and  yet  enjoy,  as  tramps,  thieves,  beggars,  robbers,  para- 
sites, gamblers,  the  idle  rich,  and  all  the  drones.  But  even 
for  these  nature  supplies  nothing  without  toil,  the  toil  of  other 
people.     The   predatory  members   of   society  exist  because 


Outli)ic  of  our  Industrial  Organization         117 

others  delve  and  strain.  The  possession  of  wealth  may  mask 
the  reality,  but  nothing  can  unmake  the  fact  that  an  idler  lives 
upon  the  stores  gathered  by  workers. 

It  is  our  duty,  however,  to  recognize  the  services  of  all 
classes  of  useful  workers.  The  manual  laborer  is  apt  to  fancy 
that  he  is  the  only  productive  agent.  But  the  work  of  mothers 
in  bearing  and  rearing  and  educating  children;  the  work  of 
teachers,  ministers,  physicians,  lawyers,  artists;  the  toil  and 
anxiety  of  merchants,  bankers,  managers  of  great  affairs,  of 
statesmen  and  officials, —  are  in  the  category  of  productive 
industries.  The  rich  are  by  no  means  all  useless,  and  they 
have  the  best  opportunity  to  be  serviceable  to  society;  they 
have  the  largest  resources  and  the  most  numerous  ways  of 
promoting  the  happiness  of  mankind.  Those  whose  sole  busi- 
ness is  to  cut  coupons  and  collect  rents  may  be,  through  a 
noble  use  of  their  leisure,  repaying  their  fellow-men  a  thousand 
times  for  all  their  material  support  costs.  There  are  many 
methods  of  working  for  the  increase  of  the  common  sum  of 
satisfactions.  But  of  the  man  who  only  cuts  coupons  and 
collects  rents,  what  shall  we  say?  What  should  society  do  for 
him  ? 

Work  usually  means  cost  to  the  worker;  it  is  ordinarily 
painful,  and  requires  sacrifice.  This  is  most  visibly  manifest 
in  the  labors  of  those  who  lift  and  pull,  bend  and  lift,  sweat 
and  struggle,  in  harvest  field  and  factory,  in  the  dark  mines, 
lying  on  their  sides  and  creeping  along  the  low  tunnels,  often 
toward  the  deadly  fire-damp  and  the  falling  roof.  But  it  is 
also  known  in  hidden  places,  out  of  sight  of  the  multitudes. 

Even  in  our  day,  long  after  Thomas  Hood  sang  in  pity  the 
classic  of  poverty,  The  Song  of  the  Shirt,  the  friendly  visitor 
and  the  faithful  missionary  may  discover  the  maker  of  cheap 
clothing  in  the  attic  room  of  a  great  city:  — 

"  With  fingers  weary  and  worn, 

With  eyelids  heavy  and  red, 
A  woman  sat,  in  unwomanly  rags, 

Plying  her  needle  and  thread,  — 
Stitch!  stitch!  stitch! 

In  poverty,  hunger,  and  dirt; 
And  still  with  a  voice  of  dolorous  pitch 

She  sang  the  '  Song  of  the  Shirt.' 


u8  Social  Elements 


"  Work  — work  —  work  ! 

Till  the  brain  begins  to  swim ! 
Work  —  work  —  work  — 

Till  the  eyes  are  heavy  and  dim ! 
Seam,  and  gusset,  and  band, 

]5and,  and  gusset,  and  seam, — 
Till  over  the  buttons  I  fall  asleep, 

And  sew  them  on  in  a  dream  !  " 


III.  Economy.  —  Since  productive  work  costs  sacrifice,  it 
is  natural  that  rational  beings  should  get  what  they  want  at  as 
low  cost  as  possible.  This  is  what  we  mean  by  "economy." 
It  is  true  that  many  kinds  of  activity  are  pleasurable,  and  men 
will  put  forth  great  exertions  in  sports.  Artistic  work  has  a 
delight  in  itself,  apart  from  the  price  it  brings.  It  seems 
probable  that  this  kind  of  pleasant  useful  labor  will  increase 
with  improvements  in  machinery  and  social  organization. 
But  practically  men  are  pushed  by  the  most  powerful  motives 
to  get  the  object  of  desire  at  the  least  cost  and  in  the  most 
economical  method.  It  is  rational  to  buy  in  the  cheapest 
market,  even  when  we  intend  to  make  a  present.  Since  the 
amount  of  energy  and  materials  at  our  command  is  limited 
and  our  wants  are  unlimited,  we  must  act  on  this  principle  of 
economy  or  come  to  the  end  of  supplies.  The  instinct  is  like 
that  of  a  dog,  which  instinctively  runs  along  the  diagonal  path 
across  a  pasture,  just  as  if  he  knew  the  geometry  of  a  triangle. 
None  but  the  insane  act  habitually  on  the  principle  of  doing 
an  act  twice  where  one  effort  is  sufficient.  Some  one  has  said 
that  men  are  just  as  lazy  as  they  dare  to  be.  If  this  saying  is 
extravagant,  we  may  still  admit  that  it  indicates  a  truth;  men 
will  gain  their  ends  by  the  most  rational  method  known  to 
them  or  available,  and  they  will  count  any  other  conduct 
irrational. 

IV.  Hence  the  Industries  and  the  Arts.  —  We  have  already 
studied  the  various  classes  of  useful  arts,  the  tools,  machines, 
skill,  and  technical  training  by  which  social  wants  are  satisfied. 
The  development  and  perfection  of  these  arts  are  furthered 
by  the  economic  impulses  of  society.  Inventions  are  made 
under  the  spur  of  desire.  The  intellect  works  from  the 
goading  of  the  purpose  to  get  goods  by  the  shortest  method. 


Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization  119 

Necessity  is  the  mother  of  invention.  The  invention  becomes 
general  property. 

These  social  inventions  are  the  most  valuable  and  perma- 
nent kinds  of  capital.  Material  things  perish  with  the  using. 
Gorgeous  palaces,  solemn  temples,  iron  machinery,  staunch 
ships  of  steel,  stores  of  grain,  are  dissolved  by  worm  and  wear, 
by  rust  and  fire.  But  the  invention  of  an  axe  or  hammer,  a 
millstone  or  a  water-wheel,  lasts  for  ten  thousand  years,  long 
after  the  savage  genius  who  first  made  the  discovery  has  been 
forgotten.  Ideas  and  methods  survive;  it  is  things  which 
decay  and  pass  away. 

V.  Hence  Social  Organization  for  Production  ;  Division  of 
Labor.  —  In  order  to  produce  an  article  most  rapidly  and  per- 
fectly, one  must  be  in  the  habit  of  making  that  one  object. 
Illustrations  of  the  division  of  labor  should  be  sought  by  the 
reader  in  some  shop,  factory,  or  mill.  No  written  page  can 
make  the  principle  clear  to  one  who  does  not  observe  for  him- 
self. Fortunately,  the  nearest  blacksmith  shop  may  furnish 
the  primary  lesson.  If  a  man  works  alone  at  forge  and  anvil, 
his  productive  ability  is  very  much  restricted.  If  he  has  a 
helper  to  hold  the  heavy  and  white-hot  bar,  or  to  strike  alter- 
nate blows  in  welding  at  the  critical  moment,  he  can  undertake 
kinds  of  tasks  impossible  without  such  cooperation.  In  mak- 
ing a  wagon  some  men  have  greater  skill  in  shaping  the  wooden 
parts,  and  others  excel  in  iron.  If  one  man  attempts  to  make 
the  entire  vehicle,  he  succeeds,  if  at  all,  only  imperfectly  and 
slowly.  A  piano  factory,  a  watch  factory,  or  a  planing  mill 
would  give  still  more  complex  instances  of  fine  division  of 
tasks.  In  a  great  shoe  factory  the  trade  really  means  many 
trades  under  one  roof.  There  are  those  who  cut  out  the 
leather,  others  who  form  the  heels,  or  sew  the  uppers,  or  peg 
the  soles,  or  finish  the  edges. 

The  Regulation  of  Industry  is  essential  to  its  efficiency,  and 
the  methods  of  government  have  changed  from  age  to  age. 
In  the  earliest  history  of  mankind  the  father  seems  to  have 
ruled  the  household  arts,  although  in  a  subordinate  way  the 
woman  directed  some  parts  of  the  labor,  especially  in  the 
preparation  of  food  and  clothing.  Under  all  systems  of  slav- 
ery,  regulation  is  in  the  hand  of  the  owner  and  lord,  who 


120  Social  Elements 


controls  the  laborers  according  to  the  customs  of  the  time. 
This  control  does  not  always  rest  entirely  on  fear  and  force, 
for  the  slave  himself  recognizes  his  subject  condition  and 
assents  to  it,  especially  if  he  has  inherited  his  state  and  is  of 
mild  disposition  and  feels  himself  inferior.  So  natural  was 
slavery  in  ancient  times  that  poor  men  sought  to  place  them- 
selves under  a  master  in  order  to  secure  support  and  protection. 

Slavery  belonged  to  an  entirely  different  social  state  from 
our  own.  Slaves  were  captives  of  war  or  purchased  from  con- 
querors. There  was  a  need  of  protection  as  well  as  of  support, 
and  the  condition  of  the  slave  secured  both.  But  at  a  later 
stage  in  European  history  it  was  gradually  found  that  man 
would  produce  more  for  the  landowner  if  he  could  be  sure  of 
his  home  and  family  and  had  a  share  of  the  product  of  his 
toil,  according  to  his  industry  and  skill. 

Serfdom  displaced  slavery,  because  it  was  more  profitable 
to  landowners  and  gave  them  larger  and  surer  returns.  No 
doubt  the  diffusion  of  more  humane  sentiments  and  nobler 
conceptions  of  the  worth  of  man  aided  this  movement  of 
liberation.  Finally  serfdom  disappeared  in  Europe  and  a  new 
mode  of  regulating  labor  gradually  arose. 

Slavery,  after  it  had  ceased  in  Europe,  was  established  in 
America.  The  economic  cause  of  this  was  the  necessity  felt 
by  the  Europeans  for  having  under  their  control  a  body  of 
laborers  who  could  not  run  away  and  set  up  as  farmers  on  their 
own  property.  We  were  long  in  discovering  that  this  kind  of 
control  was  wasteful  to  the  land  and  did  not  train  workmen  fit 
to  manage  modern  machinery  at  a  profit.  In  the  meantime 
the  moral  and  religious  sentiment  was  coming  into  revolt 
against  slavery  as  a  degradation  of  man  by  man.  The  Civil 
War  killed  slavery  in  the  United  States  and  left  us  with  a  vast 
multitude  of  persons  who  had  no  proper  discipline  for  self- 
government. 

The  Factory  System.  — The  most  general  method  of  control 
in  our  age  has  grown  naturally  out  of  the  two  preceding 
stages.  It  is  still  true  that  wage-workers  are  subject  to  the 
directions  and  command  of  the  landowners,  managers  of 
manufactures,  and  other  employers.  This  system  may  be 
called  the  Factory  or  Business  Manager  System.     It  is  gov- 


Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization  121 


erned  by  the  will  of  the  Capitalist  Employer,  the  "captain  of 
industry."  The  manual  workers,  and  others  under  control, 
are  appointed  their  tasks  and  are  supported  during  the  proa 
of  production  by  the  managers.  Why  do  not  the  wage -workers 
go  upon  the  land  and  be  their  own  masters?  Why  do  they 
submit  to  the  orders  of  the  business  managers?  There  are 
many  reasons,  all  of  them  found  in  the  advantages  of  the  sys- 
tem in  the  present  state  of  public  opinion  and  national  char- 
acter. In  the  first  place,  a  great  many  men  have  chosen  to 
become  self-employing  farmers,  owning  their  own  land  and 
working  under  their  own  rules.  Multitudes  of  our  people, 
especially  in  earlier  times,  when  free  land  was  plenty  or  when 
farms  could  be  purchased  for  a  small  sum  and  on  credit,  have 
thus  provided  for  their  families.  And  many  others  are  doing 
the  same  thing  now  in  various  parts  of  the  country. 

But  multitudes  of  others  have  found  it  less  difficult,  for 
various  reasons,  to  work  for  employers  on  farms  and  in  cities. 
In  our  times,  the  immigrants  of  older  countries  have  flocked 
to  our  shores  without  enough  money  to  carry  them  to  the  great 
West  and  South,  and  provide  seed,  horses,  ploughs,  and  sub- 
sistence until  they  could  raise  a  crop.  These  persons  discover 
that  they  can  at  once  find  support  in  manufacturing  establish- 
ments, without  capital,  and,  frequently,  without  skill.  It  is 
no  longer  possible,  as  a  general  rule,  to  start  business  with  a 
few  dollars'  worth  of  tools  and  materials.  Clothing,  shoes, 
machinery,  the  parts  of  houses,  and  most  articles  sold  in  the 
market,  can  be  made  more  cheaply  by  steam  power  and  in 
large  quantities.  These  small  shops  are  closed  out;  the  work- 
men hire  themselves  to  the  manufacturers;  the  number  of 
wage-workers  increases  and  the  relative  number  of  employers 
diminishes.  The  man  who  sells  his  time  and  energy  does, 
indeed,  lose  control  of  his  person  thus  far;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  is  not  vexed  by  having  to  seek  customers,  or  collect 
bad  debts,  or  make  complicated  plans  for  introducing  inven- 
tions and  better  methods.  He  is  responsible  for  his  own  task 
for  so  many  pieces  or  hours,  and  then  he  is  free.  Many  me- 
chanics can  thus  secure  a  larger  income  than  if  they  owned 
their  own  farms  and  tilled  them.  The  comfort  of  living  in  a 
town,  with  its  amusements,  excitement,  and  other  attractions, 


122  Social  Elements 


is  another  motive  which  holds  the  wage-workers  under  this 
kind  of  control.  We  may  be  sure  that  this  method  is  fairly 
well  adapted  to  our  average  condition,  or  it  would  not  be  so 
general,  and  would  not  continue. 

Direction  of  the  working  groups  is  a  necessary  social  func- 
tion. It  is  as  much  a  part  of  the  process  of  production  as 
labor  at  bench,  or  plough,  or  lathe,  or  counter.  Any  person 
can  verify  this  assertion  for  himself  by  watching  a  gang  of 
road-menders,  or  a  group  of  car-makers,  or  a  crew  of  sailors. 
The  larger  the  establishment,  the  more  important  is  this  func- 
tion. A  man  who  tills  a  field  for  himself  needs  no  supervision ; 
but  then,  his  product  is  small  in  proportion  to  his  exertion. 
A  thousand  men  working  under  skilful  supervision  can  pro- 
duce much  more  than  a  thousand  times  more  than  one  person 
could  produce  working  by  himself.  The  supervision  adds  to 
the  product,  and  is  a  real  contribution  to  wealth. 

Of  course,  if  workmen  are  indolent,  dishonest,  careless, 
awkward,  the  cost  of  supervising  them  is  greater  than  if  they 
are  intelligent,  industrious,  and  honorable.  And  here  is  a 
point  where  manufacture  and  business  can  be  made  much  less 
costly  to  society  by  advance  in  morality  and  education.  But 
there  will  never  come  a  time  when  it  will  not  be  necessary  to 
have  a  directing  head  for  each  large  body  of  producers.  The 
materials  must  be  ready,  the  plans  must  be  at  hand,  the  task 
of  each  person  must  be  assigned  so  that  others  shall  not  be 
kept  waiting.  Every  machine  must  run  steadily  all  day,  and 
the  combination  of  materials  and  workers  must  be  calculated 
exactly.  The  duty  of  the  "boss  "  requires  ability  of  a  peculiar 
kind,  and  as  the  complexity  of  elements  increases  it  is  more 
and  more  difficult  to  find  men  competent  to  carry  all  the  details 
in  mind  and  to  reach  decisions  swiftly  and  accurately.  Those 
who  are  at  the  head  of  great  railroads  and  steel  works  are  fre- 
quently paid  very  high  salaries  because  they  are  in  demand 
and  have  a  sort  of  monopoly  of  their  kind  of  talent. 

During  the  hours  of  work,  the  manual  laborer  or  the 
salaried  servant  of  the  house  is  subject  to  the  master  of  the 
establishment.  He  may,  within  very  rigid  limits,  choose  his 
master,  but  even  this  power  is  restricted  and  does  not  carry 
him  out  of  the  sweep  of  the  system.     When  he  engages  to  give 


Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization         123 

his  time  he  accepts  a  foreign  will  and  is  directed  from  without. 
If  he  objects  to  the  demands  made  upon  him  in  respect  to  the 
duration,  intensity,  or  quality  of  his  work,  or  the  treatment 
of  the  overseers,  or  to  the  wages,  he  is  liable  to  discharge. 
If  he  is  known  to  be  a  constant  objector,  he  finds  it  difficult  to 
secure  employment  in  any  place. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  is  inevitable  that  friction 
should  arise.  Men  accustomed  to  the  atmosphere  of  political 
freedom,  taught  to  consider  all  as  equal  before  the  law,  are 
not  likely  to  bow  meekly  to  the  yoke  of  arbitrary  discipline. 
Power  soon  becomes  arbitrary  if  it  is  not  met  by  other  power. 
There  never  was  a  body  of  men  on  earth  who  could  be  entrusted 
permanently  with  the  control  of  others  without  responsibility. 
The  habit  of  being  obeyed  instantly  and  unquestioningly, 
without  murmur  or  criticism,  without  opportunity  for  revision 
or  complaint,  makes  tyrants  of  the  best  supervisors.  Experi- 
ence has  taught  men  in  politics  and  in  manufacture  to  organize 
checks  on  irresponsible  government. 

The  Trade  Union  as  a  Governing  Body.  —  The  trade  union 
is  an  organization  of  wage-workers  to  secure  a  share  in  the 
control  and  regulation  of  business.  It  is  part  of  the  general 
democratic  movement  of  this  age  to  give  men  a  place  in  the 
management  of  their  own  persons  and  destinies.  This  is  the 
central  meaning  of  the  movement  and  of  the  organization,  and 
this  should  be  better  understood.  These  organizations  are 
new  in  regions  where  manufacturing  has  been  but  recently  in- 
troduced. They  are  often  composed  of  persons  who  have  had 
little  experience  in  them,  who  are  strangers  to  each  other  and 
to  our  institutions.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  they  should  make 
mistakes,  that  they  should  come  into  collision  with  the  law 
which  they  have  never  been  taught,  and  that  their  own  sincere 
sense  of  injustice  should  sometimes  move  them  to  anti-social 
acts.  All  these  abuses  can  be  corrected.  Experience,  dis- 
cussion, and  law  may  remove  many  of  the  objectionable  fac- 
tors. But  the  essential  aim  and  principle  are  sound.  The 
trade  union  is  a  method  of  democratic  self-government.  It 
enables  the  wage- workers  to  gain  a  hearing  and  a  representa- 
tion in  a  regular  way.  It  gives  them  power  to  enforce  their 
wishes.      It  provides  a  parliament  for  debate,  in  which  the 


124  Social  Elements 


extreme  notions  of  radicals  are  tamed  down  by  the  sober 
counsels  of  conservative  men. 

Just  as  there  is  a  government  in  the  family,  in  the  school, 
in  the  church,  and  in  every  club,  lodge,  and  association  of 
every  kind,  so  there  must  be  in  the  factory.  With  advancing 
intelligence  and  more  general  education,  there  will  be  more 
general  fitness  for  sharing  in  such  interior  government,  and 
there  will  also  be  a  stronger  demand  for  it.  Men  who  have 
become  accustomed  to  exercising  their  suffrage  in  choosing 
their  political  representatives  will  inevitably  ask  for  a  voice 
in  governing  the  factory,  that  institution  which  most  closely 
affects  their  health,  morals,  and  happiness. 

The  right  of  wage-workers  to  a  share  in  the  government  of 
the  institution  which  determines  the  very  essential  conditions 
of  their  lives  is  disputed.  It  is  frequently  claimed  that  the 
proprietor  himself  is  the  only  one  who  can  be  trusted  with 
authority  over  the  management  of  his  factory.  The  capitalist 
employer  may  be  conceded  the  right  to  control  his  machinery 
and  plant,  while  he  has  no  such  right  to  govern  the  human 
beings  whom  he  employs  in  a  fashion  which  is  against  their 
will  and  judgment.  There  are  two  sets  of  instruments,  the 
men  and  the  things.  The  manager  has  no  right  to  govern  men 
arbitrarily  and  without  taking  counsel  with  them,  as  to  the 
mode  of  using  and  consuming  their  physical  and  mental  powers. 

The  extension  of  the  great  corporations,  such  as  railroads, 
steamship  lines,  mining  companies,  irrigation  associations, 
and  other  large  enterprises,  has  modified  the  function  of  super- 
intendence. The  direction  of  large  business  in  its  details  for- 
merly belonged  to  the  managers  of  finances,  to  be  noticed  later. 
But  when  a  form  of  business  becomes  greater,  and  the  real 
owners  are  scattered  stockholders,  and  not  one  or  two  large 
capitalists,  then  the  technical  direction  falls  more  and  more 
into  the  hands  of  a  new  class  of  men,  the  various  grades  of 
salaried  directors  of  manufacture  or  transportation  who  were 
educated  in  technical  schools  and  have  worked  their  way  up 
from  the  bottom  according  to  a  merit  system.  This  is  a  social 
change  of  far-reaching  importance.  Its  effect  may  be  to 
diminish  the  relative  importance  of  the  capitalist  manager, 
and  render  his  service  less  indispensable  to  society. 


Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization  125 

VI.  Management  of  Business.  —  From  the  division  of  labor 
in  production  of  goods  arises  the  necessity  of  trade  and 
exchange. 

We  may  read  of  people  who  produced  all  they  consumed, 
but  they  were  not  much  raised  above  the  conditions  of  savage 
life.  Trade,  beginning  in  barter,  marks  an  important  step  in 
the  progress  of  mankind.  The  farmers,  in  many  regions,  dis- 
cover that  it  does  not  pay  to  make  butter  and  cheese,  because 
this  can  be  done  more  economically  in  dairies  and  cheese  fac- 
tories. The  dairy  farmers  bring  milk  to  a  central  place  and 
receive  in  return  the  butter  and  cheese  they  need,  and  in 
addition  money  which  will  enable  them  to  purchase  all  they 
require. 

The  "middleman  "  or  merchant,  acting  with  agents  of  trans- 
portation, serves  the  community  at  this  point.  Oranges  can 
be  grown  most  cheaply  in  Florida  and  California.  Cattle 
flourish  on  the  plains  of  Texas.  Sheep  can  be  raised  where 
there  is  suitable  pasture  and  climate.  The  streams  of  rocky 
New  England  furnish  water  power,  and  the  inventive  people, 
heirs  of  mechanical  traditions,  furnish  contrivances.  Our 
very  necessities  compel  us  to  be  sociable.  We  might  become 
isolated,  shut  up  in  narrow  valleys  of  conceit  and  ignorance 
and  prejudice,  but  for  the  system  of  trade. 

Business.  —  It  is  not  enough  to  manufacture  goods  for  the 
market;  they  will  never  serve  man  until  they  are  brought  in 
good  condition  and  on  time  to  the  market.  Let  us  here  con- 
sider, in  outline,  the  social  organization  for  this  purpose. 
For  an  adequate  discussion  of  each  point,  we  must  go  to  the 
ordinary  works  on  political  economy  or  "economics." 
Enough  must  be  set  down  here  to  show  the  place  of  business 
in  the  grand  scheme  of  society. 

Exchange. — There  is  not  only  a  division  of  labor  among 
the  workmen  of  a  factory  or  mill,  there  is  diversity  of  produc- 
tion in  different  regions  of  the  earth.  The  shoemaker  wishes 
to  exchange  nearly  all  the  shoes  he  can  make  for  other  articles 
which  he  desires.  The  farmer  has  more  wheat  than  his  family 
can  consume,  and  he  wishes  to  send  for  books,  wagons,  tea, 
coffee,  spices,  tobacco,  calico,  woollen  cloth,  blankets,  and 
other  commodities. 


126  Social  Elements 


Business  began  with  barter.  This  is  a  stage  of  commerce 
which  may  yet  be  studied  among  school  boys  and  the  residents 
of  Africa  and  other  primitive  folk.  The  boys  trade  so  many 
marbles  for  a  knife,  so  much  string  for  so  much  candy,  a 
definite  quantity  of  slate  pencil  for  an  agreed  quantity  of 
leather.  In  the  African  forest,  a  few  shining  beads  or  a  yard 
of  bright-colored  cloth  will  purchase  elephant  tusks  of  precious 
ivory.     Barter  is  the  earliest  form  of  exchange. 

In  more  settled  agricultural  and  manufacturing  communi- 
ties, the  number  and  variety  of  articles  exchanged  increase; 
and  it  becomes  clear  that  there  must  be  a  common  standard  of 
exchange.  Thus,  a  man  who  has  more  cows  than  he  can  use 
will  purchase  ten  sheep  for  one  cow.  A  horse  may  bring  ten 
cows  or  a  hundred  sheep.  A  very  attractive  bracelet  of  gold 
may  exchange  for  ten  horses.  Now,  if  cattle  are  the  most 
common  sort  of  wealth  in  that  community,  a  custom  may  grow 
up  of  estimating  horses,  tents,  and  cloth  in  terms  of  cattle. 
Thus  we  come  to  the  word  "price." 

Price  is  the  common  measure  of  the  value  of  goods.  But 
experience  has  shown  that  this  price  needs  some  well-known 
and  convenient  form  of  wealth  as  its  representative.  If  a  man 
wishes  to  sell  a  cow  worth  ten  sheep,  and  his  customer  has  only 
three  sheep  to  sell,  it  is  impossible  to  make  a  trade,  because  the 
cow  is  not  valuable  if  she  is  cut  up.     Hence  the  use  of  money. 

Without  entering  upon  the  controversial  questions  relating 
to  money,  we  simply  notice  its  social  functions,  —  it  is  a 
standard  of  values  and  a  medium  of  exchange.  While  in 
former  times  actual  commodities  were  used  for  these  pur- 
poses,—  cattle,  blocks  of  salt  or  tea,  hides,  iron, — advan- 
cing civilization  adopted  the  precious  metals  and  various 
symbols  of  these.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  banking  system  is 
the  chief  medium  of  exchange,  very  little  money  being  passed 
from  hand  to  hand  compared  with  the  volume  of  wealth  re- 
corded in  books  and  transferred  by  checks,  notes,  and  various 
devices  of  the  commercial  world.  The  regulation  of  currency 
and  exchange  by  government  is  one  of  its  most  necessary  and 
delicate  functions;  the  study  of  public  finance  is  a  duty  of 
every  citizen;  and  the  administration  requires  the  highest 
order  of  commercial  ability  in  statesmen. 


Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization  \2J 

Capital  and  its  Social  Function,  — As  soon  as  industry  and 
trade  have  grown  to  considerable  proportions,  there  is  need 
for  large  collections  of  tools  and  implements,  of  machines  and 
buildings,  of  stores  of  food  and  fuel,  of  lumber  and  raw  mate- 
rials for  manufacture.  Capital  is  not  very  important  in  savage 
conditions  and  in  frontier  life.  But  when  population  is  dense, 
and  trade  is  widely  extended,  it  becomes  necessary  to  have 
immense  resources  ready  and  under  competent  control.  These 
supplies  of  subsistence  and  machinery  constitute  "capital." 
They  are  the  product  of  labor  and  thinking,  and  they  are  the 
result  of  saving,  in  the  first  instance,  a  part  of  the  product 
from  immediate  consumption.  The  function  of  capital  is  to 
produce  more  wealth.  The  food  supplies  support  the  workers; 
the  raw  materials,  as  cotton  and  ores,  are  manufactured  into 
goods  demanded  by  the  community,  and  thus  the  process  of 
production  is  kept  up  in  endless  series  from  generation  to- 
generation.  The  capital  may  be  owned  and  controlled  by 
individuals,  by  the  entire  people  in  common,  or  by  corpora- 
tions. Frequently  the  capital  employed  in  a  railroad  is  largely 
owned  by  the  employees,  who  have  bought  its  stock.  The 
owners  of  capital  are  not  all  wealthy  persons;  many  of  them 
are  relatively  poor.  But  whoever  owns  the  capital  it  is  abso- 
lutely essential  to  progress  that  masses  of  wealth  should  be 
brought  together  for  production  and  exchange. 

The  Capitalist.  —  Any  person  who  owns  wealth  used  for  pro- 
duction is  so  far  a  capitalist.  The  word  is  ordinarily  used  to 
designate  a  person  who  owns  a  very  large  amount  of  wealth. 
But  a  child  who  invests  a  dime  in  the  savings  bank,  or  the 
widow  who  buys  stock  in  a  bank  or  mine,  becomes  to  this 
extent  a  capitalist;  and  the  number  of  such  investors  con- 
stantly increases. 

The  Manager.  —  The  most  interesting  figure  of  modern 
time  is  the  "undertaker"  or  business  manager.  Perhaps  it 
is  safer  to  use  the  term  "manager,"  because  the  word  "under- 
taker "  has  a  rather  too  sombre  and  funereal  suggestiveness  in 
our  language.  This  business  manager  is  the  man  whom  Carlvle 
called  the  "captain  of  industry."  We  have  just  seen  him 
directing  the  laborers  in  the  factory,  or  delegating  his  duties 
to  a  superintendent  from  whom  he  requires  reports. 


128  Social  Elements 


There  is  another  side  to  the  duties  of  the  manager.  He  is 
the  man  who  provides  capital  for  all  kinds  of  enterprises. 
He  is  the  man  who  walks  the  floor  of  nights  when  credit  is 
hard  to  obtain,  and  immense  sums  of  money  must  be  raised 
to  pay  "the  hands."  He  is  the  man  who  must  wait  for  his 
pay,  perhaps  for  years,  and  lose  everything  in  the  end  by  some 
error  of  judgment  or  by  some  unforeseen  change  in  the  public 
demand.  He  is  the  man  who  is  cursed  for  his  success  and 
for  his  failures.  He  is  more  abused  than  any  other  person  in 
the  country.  He  is  more  bitterly  hated.  On  him  rests  the 
burden  of  keeping  his  machinery  busy,  so  that  interest  and 
taxes  may  not  eat  up  its  value,  and  his  goods  be  forgotten  in 
the  markets.  He  must  look  for  sales  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
He  must  watch  the  prices'  in  Liverpool,  London,  and  Pekin. 
When  his  ships  with  valuable  cargoes  are  tossing  on  the  waves, 
his  head  tosses  on  the  pillow,  though  it  be  of  down.  Nearly 
all  the  men  who  try  this  occupation  fail.  Here  and  there  one 
succeeds.  But  the  son  of  a  born  leader  often  fails,  and  there 
are  only  two  or  three  generations  "from  shirt  sleeves  to  shirt 
sleeves." 

If  the  difficulties  of  this  perilous  position  are  great,  the  re- 
wards are  also  great.  Of  the  merely  economic  rewards  we 
shall  speak  under  the  head  of  "profits."  But  in  passing  we 
may  point  out  the  other  social  rewards  which  come  to  the 
successful  man  of  enterprise  during  his  brief  enjoyment  of 
control.  He  may  live  in  a  great  mansion  and  keep  a  board- 
ing-house for  servants  of  all  kinds.  He  can  have  dainty  food, 
more  than  a  regiment  can  eat.  He  can  go  to  the  opera  and 
pay  a  hundred  dollars  for  a  box  where  all  can  see  his  shirt- 
front  and  diamond  pin  and  splendidly  dressed  wife  and 
daughters.  He  is  the  object  of  constant  flattery  and  praise. 
He  is  called  "Napoleon,"  more  than  a  captain  of  industry — ■ 
he  is  a  general.  Sometimes  he  succeeds  in  keeping  his  win- 
nings till  he  dies,  and  then  his  estate  is  cut  up,  the  lawyers 
and  heirs  and  inheritance  taxes  dividing  his  earnings  among 
them.  He  is  conscious  while  he  lives  of  performing  for 
society  a  most  important  service.  If  he  is  a  philanthropist 
he  has  the  resources  of  society  at  his  command,  and  can  do  all 
that  money  can  perform,  for  it  is  his  own.     Professor  Sherwood 


Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization  129 

thus  states  the  conditions  which   have  given   the   undertaker 
his  importance :  — 

"  (1)  Cheap  and  rapid  transportation;  (2)  the  existence  of  vast  ac- 
cumulations of  loanable  capital;  (3)  a  high  degree  of  civilization,  shown 
in  the  effective  anticipation  of  wants  in  the  remote  future;  (4)  the  forma- 
tion of  great  political  empires  bringing  under  community  of  law  and  admin- 
istration the  industries  of  vast  territories;  (5)  the  general  development  of 
the  spirit  of  international  trade  and  of  democratic  ideas;  (6)  the  existence 
of  a  real  world-market  with  its  greater  stability  of  prices  and  its  extension 
of  sources  of  demand  and  supply;  (7)  greater  division  of  labor,  increasing 
the  technical  difficulties  of  undertaking;  (8)  greater  economy  of  produc- 
tion on  a  large  scale." 

Let  us  suppose  that  the  present  tendency  should  continue, 
that  the  function  of  superintendence  of  great  industries  and 
business  should  pass  to  salaried  men,  that  the  risk  of  capital 
should  be  taken  by  vast  corporations  having  countless  capital, 
as  is  already  true  in  many  railroads, —  then  the  independent 
business  manager  would  disappear,  and  the  important  position 
he  now  occupies  would  be  vacant.  This  would  have  a  certain 
effect  on  profits,  —  the  reward  of  the  manager.  But  that  day 
may  be  far  off.  There  are  still  magnificent  chances  for  men 
who  can  discover  new  fields  of  enterprise,  where  powers  of 
invention  are  required.  Only  when  business  is  reduced  to  a 
degree  of  customary  routine  can  it  be  directed  by  salaried 
superintendents. 

The  Banker  ana7  Banking.  — The  banker  shares  the  responsi- 
bilities, the  advantages,  the  honors,  and  the  criticism  of  the 
manager.  Many  are  asking,  "What  is  the  banker  good  for? 
How  does  he  earn  his  wealth  ?  Is  he  a  blood-sucker  or  a  blood- 
maker?"  Let  us  see.  Let  it  be  remembered  that  when  we 
sought  the  function  of  a  trade  union  we  left  out  of  account  the 
abuses  and  the  immoralities.  Every  institution  and  group 
should  be  judged  by  its  normal  function  and  not  by  its  crimes. 
The  justice  we  asked  for  the  trade  union  we  now  request  for 
the  banker.  If  the  banker  steals,  there  is  the  penitentiary, 
and  the  pardoning  power  should  not  rob  the  penitentiary  of 
its  due  after  the  so-called  respectable  banker  has  been  con- 
victed of  stealing  a  million  of  humble  deposits.  If  he  lies, 
he  will  lose  confidence.     If  he  cheats,  we  must  trust  the  de- 

K 


130  Social  Elements 


tectives  and  eternal  righteousness  to  look  into  his  accounts. 
But  if  he  transacts  our  business,  he  deserves  at  least  candid 
consideration.     What  is  his  task  in  the  great  army  of  industry  ? 

It  is  to  gather  the  "many  mickles  that  make  a  muckle." 
Ten  sticks  apart  cannot  make  a  fire;  they  must  be  heaped  in 
one  place.  A  million  dollars  in  separate  stockings  and  stove- 
pipes, suspicious  of  each  other,  will  not  supply  a  rolling-mill 
or  railroad  with  capital  to  employ  hundreds  of  men.  Gather 
all  these  separate  and  idle  dollars  into  one  fund,  pay  the  owners 
of  each  a  little  interest,  keep  it  secure  from  rats  and  robbers, 
lend  it  to  business  managers  of  genius  for  industrial  organiza- 
tion, and  wealth  is  multiplied.  That  is  one  function  of  a 
banker.     Visit  a  bank  and  see  for  yourself. 

But  the  service  of  the  banker  does  not  end  here.  Society 
cannot  afford  to  have  the  wrong  managers  get  control  of  their 
hard-earned  savings.  An  incompetent,  ignorant,  dishonest 
manager  would  soon  squander  the  money  which  comes  from 
stinting  and  sparing,  from  bleeding  fingers  and  weary  nerves. 
The  banker  must  be  a  man  who  can  read  men  and  judge  them, 
and  measure  their  ability,  find  out  their  resources,  and  discover 
their  modes  of  doing  business.  He  must  be  a  man  who  would 
not  lend  to  his  own  brother  if  that  brother  were  unfit  for  the 
trust.  He  must  not  show  mercy  to  a  bankrupt,  even  if  he 
plead  for  credit  with  tears.  He  must  be  absolutely  without 
compassion  in  business  hours,  although  he  may  be  merciful 
as  an  angel  with  his  own  money.  He  must  be  the  embodi- 
ment of  justice,  that  he  may  be  good  to  his  clients.  They 
trust  him  with  their  hoards  for  a  specific  purpose.  He  has 
no  right  to  make  subscriptions  to  churches  and  missions  and 
charities  out  of  those  funds.  His  sole  duty  is  to  find  shrewd, 
upright,  capable  borrowers,  who  know  how  to  make  cents  into 
dimes,  and  dollars  into  eagles,  for  the  community.  If  a  banker 
does  this  in  business  hours,  he  does  his  whole  duty,  and  if  he 
fails  in  this  duty,  he  betrays  his  trust,  no  matter  how  generous 
and  philanthropic  he  may  be. 

VII.  Combinations  of  Capital.  —  Large  combinations  of 
capital  are  the  natural  growth  of  our  conditions  and  stage  of 
culture.  It  is  desirable  that  all  citizens  should  understand 
this  tendency,  for  it  is  universal  and  necessary.     The  first  step 


Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization         131 

toward  an  understanding  might  be  taken  by  a  visit  to  a  shoe 
factory,  a  watch  factory,  or  any  large  establishment  which 
employs  many  persons  and  assigns  them  different  tasks. 

Explanation.  — The  advantages  of  massing  capital  and  labor 
are  obvious  to  the  careful  observer.  What  can  a  farmer  do 
with  his  wheat,  if  his  best  market  is  Liverpool?  Can  he  carry 
it  to  the  seaboard  in  his  wagon  and  then  row  it  in  his  own 
little  skiff  across  the  sea?  The  picture  is  absurd.  And  yet 
men  complain  at  the  aggregation  of  capital.  They  are  as- 
tounded, confused,  terrified  by  seeing  the  immense  wealth 
under  control  of  a  few  men.  We  have  seen  that  control  of 
capital  does  not  always  mean  ownership  of  capital.  Many  of 
the  greatest  manufacturers  and  merchants  do  much  business 
on  borrowed  money.  It  is  the  centralized  management  of 
capital  which  makes  it  productive. 

If  a  farmer  has  coal,  or  natural  gas,  or  petroleum  in  his 
farm,  he  cannot  turn  it  into  money  and  purchasing  power. 
Simple  ownership  will  not  profit  him.  He  must  take  his  goods 
to  market.  This  requires  a  pipe  line  or  train  of  cars  and  a 
vast  apparatus  for  preparing  the  crude  product  for  use.  There- 
fore he  must  join  forces  with  his  fellow-men;  he  must  organize 
a  joint-stock  company,  that  is,  he  must  make  a  combination 
or  go  without  the  advantages  of  his  possessions.  Perhaps  he 
has  not  the  business  ability  or  knowledge  to  form  a  combina- 
tion. Then  he  may  find  one  already  formed,  to  which  he  may 
sell  or  lease  his  land  and  its  contents.  He  will  naturally  take 
the  course  which  offers  him  the  best  terms. 

It  has  been  found  that  a  large  ship  can  carry  the  cargo  of 
several  small  ships  with  less  expense  per  ton  for  crew  and  coal. 
The  cost  for  each  bushel  of  grain  carried  is  smaller  with  the 
great  boats.  Hence  the  large  ships  can  offer  lower  rates  for 
transportation,  and  the  dealers  give  them  the  business.  This 
explains  the  disappearance  of  the  smaller  ships. 

It  does  not  follow  that  the  "large  industry  "  will  swallow  up 
the  small  shops  and  industries  altogether.  People  will  buy 
where  they  can  buy  best  and  most  cheaply.  They  will  con- 
sider price,  quality,  and  convenience,  and  they  will  build  up 
the  form  of  business  which  supplies  their  wants  in  the  most 
satisfactory  way.     It  is  the   consumers  who   determine  the 


132  Social  Elements 


method.  If  there  is  a  little  shop  around  the  corner,  it  may 
be  able  to  make  a  living  for  its  owner  even  if  its  prices  are 
somewhat  higher  than  those  of  the  "  department  store  "  simply 
because  the  shop  is  in  the  right  place.  Most  clothing  will  be 
made  in  large  shops,  but  a  really  artistic  tailor  may  still  find 
customers  who  prefer  his  style,  though  they  must  pay  higher 
prices  for  the  finer  fit.  The  business  of  the  dentist,  the  physi- 
cian, and  the  lawyer  are  so  personal  that  they  cannot  be  very 
greatly  extended  by  the  employment  of  wage-earners.  All  the 
finest  art  work,  as  painting,  sculpture,  wood  carving,  em- 
broidery, may  always  be  kept  out  of  the  wholesale  form  of 
manufacture.  As  taste  improves  there  will  be  a  larger  demand 
for  this  class  of  goods.  Perhaps  the  extension  of  electric 
motive  power,  which  is  easily  carried  a  long  distance  on  wires, 
may  make  it  possible  for  little  shops  to  compete  with  great 
factories  in  certain  lines.  It  is  not  at  all  settled  that  the  fac- 
tory system  is  bound  to  be  universal,  although  it  will  greatly 
increase. 

The  Perils  and  Evils  of  Combinations  of  Capital.  —  Return- 
ing to  the  principle  that  men  cannot  be  trusted  with  irresponsi- 
ble power  in  any  relation  of  life,  we  may  apply  it  in  this  case. 
The  control  of  wealth  is  a  mighty  power.  It  enables  rich  men 
or  corporations  to  secure  for  their  services  an  enormous  reward, 
to  hold  their  goods  for  an  exorbitant  price,  to  make  keen  bar- 
gains with  railroads,  so  that  smaller  dealers,  having  to  pay 
higher  freights,  cannot  compete  with  them  in  selling;  they 
can  buy  votes  in  city  councils  and  state  and  national  legisla- 
tures; they  can  maintain  lobbies  to  bribe  and  corrupt  the 
representatives  of  the  people  to  betray  and  cheat  their  masters. 
All  this  and  much  more  great  corporations  can  do,  and  have 
done.  Their  deeds,  when  fully  written,— even  when  cleared 
of  all  false  charges  and  unproved  suspicion, —  will  be  a  dark 
blot  on  the  history  of  this  century. 

Remedies.  —  If  the  dangers  of  combinations  are  so  great, 
and  the  acknowledged  evils  so  vast,  in  what  direction  shall  we 
look  for  relief  and  escape? 

Not  to  suppression.  The  tendency  to  production  by  large 
means  and  on  a  grand  scale  is  fatal  as  the  tides.  It  was  a 
foolish  woman  who  tried  to  sweep  back  the  waves  of  the  sea 


Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization  133 


with  a  broom.  The  movement  toward  the  great  industry  has 
been  coming  for  a  thousand  years,  and  it  will  never  go  back- 
ward. We  must  count  upon  and  provide  for  its  increase  and 
continuance,  just  as  we  provide  for  winter.  Winter  is  not 
wicked,  and  the  great  industry  is  not  wicked.  It  is  merely  a 
natural  fact  which  has  terrible  possibilities  of  evil,  and  is  yet 
necessary  to  the  very  existence  of  the  race,  unless  we  kill  a 
majority  of  the  population  and  reduce  the  others  to  savagery. 
That  way  is  blocked  up. 

Competition,  our  old  acquaintance  "the  struggle  for  ex- 
istence," lends  us  some  help.  It  is  not  impossible  for  a 
hundred  men  to  combine  their  capital  and  get  possession  of 
a  market.  But  it  is  far  more  difficult  to  keep  possession  of 
the  market  than  some  imagine.  If  one  manipulator  buys  up 
all  the  wheat  in  America,  there  are  still  Siberia  and  India  to 
reckon  with.  But  let  us  imagine  that  all  these  fields  are 
insufficient;  then  we  can  eat  corn  and  oats,  meat  and  fruits, 
and  dozens  of  other  substitutes;  and  we  do.  When  the  price 
of  the  most  desirable  article  advances,  men  turn  to  substitutes. 
If  coal  oil  is  higher  than  they  like  to  pay,  people  will  use 
some  vegetable  oil  or  return  to  animal  fats.  Monopoly  has 
limits.  It  is  too  shrewd  to  raise  prices  too  high,  for  fear  of 
calling  human  inventiveness  into  the  field.  Thus  we  see  that 
many  forms  of  goods  which  are  controlled  by  monopolies  are 
sold  at  constantly  reduced  price;  not  out  of  philanthropy,  but 
because  high  prices  arouse  invention  and  call  substitutes  into 
the  field. 

During  the  Civil  War  sorghum  largely  took  the  place  of  cane 
sugar,  because  that  article  was  largely  cut  off.  When  coffee 
cost  too  much,  rye  was  asked  to  take  its  place  at  the  breakfast 
table,  although  it  did  not  give  entire  satisfaction.  Now  that 
the  sugar  business  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  trust,  the  beet 
sugar  industry  comes  to  the  public  relief. 

Competition  does  not  always  run  to  the  rescue  of  the  popu- 
lar interest.  Is  there  any  other  way  of  escape?  Let  us  turn 
to  an  illustration  of  a  local  gas  monopoly  in  a  city.  There  is 
only  one  company.  It  would  not  pay  to  start  another  com- 
pany, tear  up  the  streets  for  two  sets  of  mains,  and  then  find 
in  the  end  that  the  owners  combine  under  one  management. 


134  Social  Elements 


The  supply  of  gas  in  a  given  area  is  of  necessity  a  monopoly. 
Competition  on  any  considerable  scale  is  impossible.  Sub- 
stitutes are  not  easily  found.  Coal  oil  is  unpleasant  and 
dangerous  in  city  rows.  We  do  not  desire  to  return  to  such 
inferior  means  of  lighting.  Since  competition  fails  to  offer 
assistance,  we  appeal  to  the  regulative  power  of  the  legisla- 
ture. This  body,  which  represents  all  the  people  and  not  the 
monopolies  alone,  has  the  right  to  fix  the  rate  at  which  gas 
shall  sell,  if  it  does  not  fix  a  rate  so  low  as  to  be  unjust  to  the 
owners  and  impair  the  capital.  Sometimes  city  councils  are 
given  authority  to  make  regulations  on  the  subject.  Some- 
times contracts  are  made  with  companies  which  secure  the 
rights  of  the  inhabitants. 

"  But  our  legislators  and  aldermen  deceive  us  and  sell  out 
our  interests."  Serves  us  right.  We  should  elect  honest  and 
competent  men. 

Government  as  Business  Manager.  —  Still  another  mode  of 
escape  is  open  to  us, —  the  method  of  public  ownership.  This 
is  no  new  and  "socialistic"  device.  We  are  already  familiar 
with  the  conduct  of  business  by  the  national  government  in 
the  case  of  the  postal  service.  It  is  true  that  the  postal  depart- 
ment makes  use  of  private  enterprise,  of  railroads  and  steam- 
ship lines,  but  its  own  share  in  management  is  immense. 
While  there  have  been  gross  abuses,  and  many  things  yet 
remain  to  correct,  we  have  reason  to  continue  the  system  and 
to  extend  it.  If  the  government  should  carry  parcels,  the  rate 
of  express  charges  would  diminish,  and  better  methods  would 
be  devised. 

In  cities  the  public  has  become  accustomed  to  buying  water 
of  its  own  government.  This  is  a  business  which  is  largely 
routine  and  is  not  liable  to  sudden  changes  of  method.  There 
is,  of  course,  a  chance  to  steal  in  the  water  department,  but 
experience  seems  decidedly  in  favor  of  extending  this  enter- 
prise. In  the  care  of  waste  and  sewage  the  direct  management 
by  the  city  seems  to  be  the  most  economical. 

The  government  of  a  city  is  not  compelled  to  manage  its 
own  property,  any  more  than  any  other  capitalist.  If  it 
chooses  to  let  out  any  function  to  a  corporation  of  private 
capitalists  on  good  terms,  that  may  sometimes  be  found  the 


Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization  135 

wisest  course.  The  rights  of  the  people  are  secured  by  means 
of  a  contract. 

Government  Commissions.  — The  Interstate  Commerce  Com- 
mission is  an  example  of  a  legal  method  of  controlling  great 
corporations.  For  many  years  there  were  bitter  complaints 
from  certain  merchants  that  railroad  companies  gave  special 
rates  of  freight  to  their  competitors.  It  was  found  that  a 
powerful  circle  of  directors  would  even  ruin  a  town  against 
which  they  had  a  grudge,  by  refusing  to  carry  their  freight  or 
by  demanding  a  rate  which  was  not  asked  of  competing  towns. 
There  was  a  great  opportunity  for  directors  to  make  themselves 
rich,  even  at  the  expense  of  the  stockholders,  by  levying  black- 
mail on  customers  and  selling  special  privileges.  These  com- 
plaints were  so  general  that  the  government  was  moved  to 
interfere,  in  order  to  secure  just  and  equitable  treatment  of 
men  and  of  localities.  It  was  not  thought  best  to  buy  up  the 
roads,  nor  to  become  responsible  for  their  management,  but 
to  bring  them  under  the  supervision  of  agents  of  the  people 
and  compel  them  to  give  public  account  of  all  rates  and  to 
make  the  rates  equal  to  all  customers  for  similar  services. 

In  a  similar  way  the  government  has  guarded  the  action  of 
the  national  banks  and  promoted  their  honesty  of  management. 
When  a  business  has  grown  so  great  as  to  pass  the  limits  of 
a  merely  private  enterprise,  when  it  has  gained  the  power  to 
enrich  or  to  ruin  a  whole  community,  then  it  may  justly  be 
required  to  publish  its  accounts,  its  rates,  and  all  that  concerns 
the  public  to  know  in  order  to  protect  stockholders  and  cus- 
tomers from  imposition. 

VIII.  Forms  of  Income  and  Modes  of  Support.  Rent  and 
Intej-est.  —  A  very  brief  and  imperfect  notice  must  be  given  to 
the  rewards  of  capital,  labor,  and  management.  We  have  seen 
that  capital  is  indispensable  to  modern  society.  But  we  can- 
not have  accumulations  of  the  means  of  production  without  a 
motive.  Rent  and  interest  are  the  premiums  offered  by  society 
for  the  accumulation  of  the  instruments  of  increasing  wealth. 
If  a  man  will  watch  the  operation  of  motives  in  his  own  life, 
he  will  understand  the  meaning  of  rent  and  interest.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  take  the  teaching  on  authority.  Outside  of 
the  ordinary  acts  of  friendly  and  neighborly  accommodations 


136  Social  Elements 


in  little  things,  men  lend  for  a  reward  and  save  that  they  may 
secure  the  reward.  If  one  lends  the  use  of  his  farm,  he  wants 
it  returned  to  him  as  good  as  he  gave  it  into  possession,  and 
he  wants  something  beside.  The  livery-stable  keeper  hires 
out  a  horse  and  carriage,  and  he  keeps  the  horse  and  carriage 
for  gain.  It  is  his  business.  Those  who  do  not  wish  to  own 
or  are  not  able  to  own,  must  pay  for  use  to  those  who  do  have 
title  and  right.  The  full  explanation  of  interest  and  rent  does 
not  belong  here,  but  the  social  justification  of  both  is  found, 
and  must  be  found,  at  last  in  the  social  usefulness  of  the 
system. 

If  a  man  owns  a  hundred  horses  and  hires  them  out  for 
riding,  driving,  or  ploughing,  he  derives  an  income  from 
ownership.  If  he  sells  these  horses,  and  with  the  money  buys 
a  farm  and  rents  it  to  one  who  has  no  land,  he  still  enjoys  an 
income  from  the  same  wealth.  If  he  afterwards  sells  the  farm 
and  buys  bonds  or  notes,  he  draws  interest.  So  that,  from  the 
standpoint  of  society,  rent,  interest,  and  "hire  "  belong  to  the 
same  class.  They  are  all  sources  of  income  without  direct 
and  important  effort.  They  are  often  called  unjust,  and  many 
proposals  have  been  made  to  declare  them  illegal,  especially 
in  the  case  of  interest.  But  not  without  an  absolute  and 
radical  revolution  of  modern  ideas  of  business  justice  and 
expediency  can  such  a  crusade  be  successful.  Usury  laws 
generally  raise  the  rate  of  interest,  because  they  force  the 
poor  to  borrow  of  the  most  unscrupulous  lenders,  who  will 
take  the  risk  and  charge  heavily  for  it. 

Profits.  —  While  this  word  is  ordinarily  used  to  cover  all 
that  is  left  to  a  business  man  after  expenses  and  wages  have 
been  paid,  it  is  convenient  to  separate  the  element  of  interest 
on  capital  from  the  other  sources  of  the  gains  of  a  business 
manager.  Indeed,  a  business  manager  may  borrow  all  his 
capital  and  pay  interest  on  it,  and  yet  make  gains.  Let  us 
suppose  that  a  manufacturer  is  using  a  capital  of  $100,000 
invested  in  a  mill,  in  wages,  and  in  raw  materials,  and  that 
all  this  is  advanced  by  others.  He  pays  for  the  interest  on 
this  sum  $5000,  at  5  per  cent.  But  after  paying  interest  and 
all  other  expenses,  he  has  property  at  the  end  of  the  year  worth 
$115,000.     There  is  a  gain  of  $10,000  above  the  payment 


Outline  of  our  hid  us  trial  Organization  13/ 

for  interest.  Whence  does  this  come?  From  management. 
That  means  that  he  has  had  such  skill  in  buying,  in  directing 
the  men,  in  economizing  materials  and  machinery,  in  securing 
a  sale  for  the  product,  and  such  good  "  luck,"  that  he  is  richer 
by  $10,000.  If  the  owners  of  the  capital  get  their  $5000,  and 
are  secured,  they  gain  all  that  they  can  expect  at  current  rates 
of  interest  on  well-secured  loans.  Can  it  be  denied  that  the 
manager  should  be  paid  for  his  service?  The  only  question 
asked  by  competent  critics  is  whether  he  gets  too  much  for 
his  service;  for  all  confess  that  he  should  be  well  paid.  If 
he  makes  no  gain,  he  gets  nothing  for  his  labor  and  skill, 
although  interest  and  wages  have  been  paid,  and  those  who 
furnished  the  materials  have  their  pay.  There  is  the  risk  of 
the  manager,  and  he  should  have  pay  for  that. 

Wages.  —  Another  form  of  income  very  familiar  to  all  is 
wages,  the  reward  of  the  operative,  the  laborer  for  hire.  The 
wage-earner  makes  a  contract  with  the  employer  for  a  specified 
sum  to  be  paid  as  the  work  goes  on,  by  hour  or  day,  or  week 
or  year;  or  he  may  contract  to  be  paid  by  the  piece,  accord- 
ing to  the  actual  amount  of  work  done.  While  the  modes 
of  agreement  vary  considerably,  the  principle  is  the  same 
throughout. 

The  wage-earner  also  has  his  risks,  and  they  are  serious. 
If  rain  falls,  he  may  be  obliged  to  stop  work  and  lose  time. 
If  he  is  sick,  his  income  stops.  If  the  market  is  glutted  and 
the  factory  is  closed,  he  loses  his  income.  We  hear  of  the 
"risks"  of  capital  and  managers,  but  sometimes  the  risks  of 
labor  are  overlooked.  Frequently  the  wage-earner  suffers  from 
the  mistakes  of  business  men,  from  the  general  causes  of  de- 
pression for  which  he  has  no  responsibility.  It  is  not  true 
that  laborers  are  to  blame  for  being  poor  when  these  causes 
of  non-employment  are  at  work  far  beyond  their  power  to 
control. 

Charitable  gifts  are  also  forms  of  income  of  considerable 
significance.  Many  thousands  of  persons  in  every  civilized 
land  are  supported,  partly  or  entirely,  by  private  gifts  or  public 
relief  funds. 

IX.  The  Income  of  the  Government.  —  In  the  chapter  on 
government  we  shall  see  the  social  service  of  the  political 


138  Social  Elements 


system;  and  here  we  stop  to  notice  the  relation  of  govern- 
ment to  industry  and  to  wealth. 

It  is  manifest  that  government  cannot  be  carried  on  without 
income.  Officers  must  be  paid  salaries,  and  expense  is  in- 
curred at  every  point  in  the  activity  of  armies,  navies,  courts, 
police,  schools,  signal-service,  and  of  all  the  institutions 
through  which  the  state  ministers  to  social  wants. 

Income  may  be  derived,  in  a  subordinate  way,  from  gifts, 
bequests,  endowments,  and  sale  of  wild  lands;  but  the  main 
source  of  income,  and  the  only  one  on  which  we  can  rely,  is 
taxation. 

X.  The  Limits  of  Economic  Study.  —  The  very  useful  and 
noble  science  of  political  economy,  in  order  to  pursue  par- 
ticular topics  with  great  thoroughness,  must  confine  itself 
within  certain  limits.  This  is  to  the  credit  of  its  students 
and  teachers.  It  is  merely  an  example  of  the  advantages  of 
division  of  labor  in  the  intellectual  sphere. 

Political  economy  assumes  the  formation  and  organization 
of  society  as  outlined  in  sociology.  It  assumes  the  existence 
of  a  government  and  of  laws  which  will  protect  men  in  the 
free  pursuits  of  objects  regarded  by  them  as  desirable.  It 
assumes  that  men  will  not  defend  their  property  by  private 
warfare,  but  will  refer  disputes  to  regular  tribunals.  It 
assumes  that  education  has  advanced  far  enough  to  make 
communication  between  large  numbers  of  men  practicable. 
Moral  and  religious  influences  regulative  of  conduct,  a  high 
degree  of  tolerance  of  differences,  are  also  supposed  to  be 
existing.  All  the  explanations  of  economics  are  based  on 
these  social  institutions  and  on  the  whole  system  of  which 
they  are  parts.  The  function  of  economics  is  to  describe 
and  explain  the  affairs  of  business  which  have  been  mentioned 
and  illustrated  in  this  chapter 

But  it  is  highly  desirable  that  all  students  should  see  just 
how  this  discipline  is  related  to  the  entire  structure  and  life 
of  society  at  large.  On  this  point,  it  may  be  best  to  let  econo- 
mists of  highest  authority  speak  for  the  sociologist.  While 
there  are  some  political  economists  who  would  not  agree  with 
the  definitions  and  statements  now  to  be  given,  it  will  not  be 
disputed  that  the  view  here  presented  has  high  authority,  and 


Outline  of  our  Industrial  Organization         139 


is  in  itself  reasonable.  If  any  one  thinks  that  the  province  of 
economics  is  large  enough  to  include  sociology  we  shall  not 
object;  only  it 'would  seem  best  in  that  case  to  enlarge  the 
name  of  economics  and  call  it  by  some  title  equivalent  to 
sociology. 

"  Economics  must  be  constantly  regarded  as  forming  only  one  depart- 
ment of  the  larger  science  of  Sociology,  in  vital  connection  with  its  other 
departments,  and  with  the  moral  synthesis  which  is  the  crown  of  the  whole 
intellectual  system.  .  .  .  The  economic  phenomena  of  society  cannot  he 
isolated,  except  provisionally,  from  the  rest,  —  in  fact,  all  the  primary 
social  elements  should  be  habitually  regarded  with  respect  to  their  mutual 
dependence  and  reciprocal  actions.  Especially  must  we  keep  in  view  the 
high  moral  issues  to  which  the  economic  movement  is  subservient,  and  in 
the  absence  of  which  it  could  never  in  any  great  degree  attract  the  interest 
or  fix  the  attention  either  of  eminent  thinkers  or  of  right-minded  men. 
The  individual  point  of  view  will  have  to  be  subordinated  to  the  social; 
each  agent  will  have  to  be  regarded  as  an  organ  of  the  society  to  which  he 
belongs  and  of  the  larger  society  of  the  race.  The  consideration  of  inter- 
ests, as  George  Eliot  has  well  said,  must  give  place  to  that  of  functions. 
The  old  doctrine  of  right,  which  lay  at  the  basis  of  the  system  of  '  natural 
liberty,'  has  done  its  temporary  work;  a  doctrine  of  duty  will  have  to  be 
substituted,  fixing  on  positive  grounds  the  nature  of  the  social  cooperation 
of  each  class  and  each  member  of  the  community,  and  the  rules  which 
must  regulate  its  just  and  beneficial  exercise.  .  .  . 

"  It  will  be  seen  that  our  principal  conclusion  respecting  economic 
action  harmonizes  with  that  relating  to  the  theoretic  study  of  economic 
phenomena.  For,  as  we  held  that  the  latter  could  not  be  successfully  pur- 
sued except  as  a  duly  subordinated  branch  of  the  wider  science  of  Sociol- 
ogy, so  in  practical  human  affairs  we  believe  that  no  partial  synthesis  is 
possible,  but  that  an  economic  reorganization  of  society  implies  a  universal 
renovation,  intellectual  and  moral  no  less  than  material.  The  industrial 
reformation  for  which  western  Europe  groans  and  travails,  and  the  advent 
of  which  is  indicated  by  so  many  symptoms  (though  it  will  come  only  as 
the  fruit  of  faithful  and  sustained  effort),  will  be  no  isolated  fact,  but  will 
form  part  of  an  applied  art  of  life,  modifying  our  whole  environment,  affect- 
ing our  whole  culture,  and  regulating  our  whole  conduct,  —  in  a  word, 
directing  all  our  resources  to  the  one  great  end  of  the  conservation  and 
development  of  Humanity."  l 

"  Political  Economy,  or  Economics,  is  the  name  of  that  body  of  knowl- 
edge which  relates  to  wealth.  Political  Economy  has  to  do  with  no  other 
subject,  whatsoever,  than  wealth.  Especially  should  the  student  of  eco- 
nomics take  care  not  to  allow  any  purely  political,  ethical,  or  social  con- 
sideration to  influence  him  in  his  investigations.     All  that  he  has,  as  an 

1  J.  K.  Ingram,  A  History  of  Political  Economy,  pp.  242-246. 


140  Social  Elements 


economist,  to  do  is  to  find  out  how  wealth  is  produced,  exchanged,  distributed, 
and  consumed.  It  will  remain  for  the  social  philosopher,  the  moralist,  or 
the  statesman,  to  decide  how  far  the  pursuit  of  wealth,  according  to  the 
laws  discovered  by  the  economist,  should  be  subordinated  to  other,  let  us 
say,  higher,  considerations.  The  more  strictly  the  several  branches  of  in- 
quiry are  kept  apart,  the  better  it  will  be  for  each  and  for  all.  .  .  .  The 
economist  may  also  be  a  social  philosopher,  a  moralist,  or  a  statesman,  just 
as  the  mathematician  may  also  be  a  chemist  or  a  mechanician;  but  not,  on 
that  account,  should  the  several  subjects  be  confounded.  .  .  .  Political 
Economy  is  the  science,  not  of  welfare,  but  of  wealth.  There  may  be  many 
things  which  are  better  than  wealth,  which  are  not  yet  to  be  called  wealth."  x 

1  F.  A.  Walker,  Political  Economy,  pp.  1,  6,  28.  Cf.  Boehm-Bawerk,  Capital 
and  Interest,  p.  2;  Professor  J.  L.  Laughlin,  ed.  of  Mill's  Principles  of  Political 
Economy,  III,  pp.  200,  and  523;   Davenport,  Elementary  Economics,  p.  24. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment 

"  Well,  whiles  I  am  a  beggar,  I  will  rail, 
And  say,  —  there  is  no  sin,  but  to  be  rich; 
And  being  rich,  my  virtue  then  shall  be, 
To  say  —  there  is  no  vice  but  begging." 

The  logic  of  this  sad  cynicism  "leads  to  the  resolve  :  — 
"  Gain,  be  my  lord,  for  I  will  worship  thee." 

—  Shakespeare,  King  John. 

"  The  property  owner  who  employs  his  time  in  correcting  the  mistakes 
and  raising  the  methods  of  work  in  his  district,  does  as  much  good  as  the 
best  of  doctors.  If  one  relieves  the  sufferings  of  a  few  men,  the  other  helps 
to  cure  the  wounds  of  his  country."  —  Balzac,  The  Country  Doctor. 

Is  this  a  dark  world?  It  is  often  dark  at  night.  Is  it  a 
bright  world?  It  is  bright  when  the  sun  shines.  No  one 
formula  will  cover  all  the  facts,  for  life  is  a  tangled  maze.  If 
we  would  be  true  we  must  not  be  in  haste  to  define  and  de- 
scribe. As  George  Eliot  said,  the  truth  may  be  neither  black 
nor  white,  but  some  shade  of  gray,  and  it  is  truth  we  seek. 
A  short  walk  will  take  us  past  the  abodes  of  misery  and  desti- 
tution and  the  mansions  of  luxury.  Contrasts  vex  and  depress 
us.  When  the  great  Ferris  wheel  is  turning,  some  of  the  pas- 
sengers are  going  up  and  some  are  going  down  —  a  parable  of 
the  great  world. 

"  Will  Fortune  never  come  with  both  hands  full, 
But  write. her  fair  words  still  in  the  foulest  letters? 
She  either  gives  a  stomach,  and  no  food ; 
Such  are  the  poor,  in  health;   or  else  a  feast, 
And  takes  away  the  stomach ;   such  are  the  rich 
That  have  abundance  but  enjoy  it  not." 

— King  Henry  IV,  IV,  iii. 
141 


142  Social  Elements 


Let  us  not  attempt  just  now  to  answer  the  question  whether 
mankind,  as  a  whole,  is  advancing  or  going  backward.  It 
will  be  wiser  to  confine  our  attention  to  civilized  lands,  and 
particularly  to  the  United  States.  If  it  can  be  shown  that  the 
path  oi  betterment  has  been  found  here,  then  it  may  be  fol- 
lowed by  other  peoples  in  their  turn,  for  we  trust  that  we  are 
marching  in  the  foremost  files  of  time.  We  boast  that  we  are 
carrying  the  flag  of  progress  for  the  race.  At  least,  we  can 
test  for  ourselves  the  dolorous  theories  of  despair,  and  facts  of 
social  life  are  here  most  accessible  to  us.  In  this  discussion 
the  assertions  which  are  made,  and  on  good  faith  as  to  their 
substantial  correctness,  may  be  verified  by  the  reader  out  of 
official  sources  and  from  high  authorities.  Absolute  infalli- 
bility is  not  claimed.1 

/.  The  Definition  of  Social  Progress  viewed  front  the  Eco- 
nomic Side.  —  Some  one  started  the  saying  ".The  rich  are  grow- 
ing richer,  and  the  poor  are  growing  poorer."  Is  that  true,  or 
is  it  just  a  fine-sounding  phrase? 

What  do  we  mean  by  "  industrial  progress "  ?  Until  we 
define  the  word  "progress"  we  cannot  properly  argue  about 
it.  Economic  progress  implies  the  increase  of  wealth  in  the 
countries  we  are  now  considering.  It  means  that  every  year 
there  is  a  larger  production  of  the  good  things  of  life.  It 
means  that  these  goods  can  be  more  easily  and  promptly  de- 
livered at  the  place  where  they  are  wanted  and  at  the  right 
time.  As  to  the  division  of  these  good  things,  it  means  that 
the  majority  of  the  population  are  receiving  higher  wages  and 
salaries,  greater  money  income;  that  commodities  are  cheaper 
as  measured  in  money,  and  that  the  dollars  received  for 
service  will  buy  more  desirable  things  and  of  better  quality 
than  the  dollars  of  our  fathers  could  buy.  Progress  means  the 
enlargement  of  the  "comfortable  "  class  of  citizens. 

Industrial  advance  ought  to  mean  that  the  goods  produced 


1  The  author  begs  the  reader  not  to  judge  this  chapter  by  itself,  but  to  sus- 
pend verdict  until  the  Chapters  IX  and  X  are  read.  The  bright  side  is  first 
presented,  and  then  the  exceptions,  objections,  miseries,  and  difficulties  are  con- 
sidered. The  three  chapters  together  constitute  one  presentation.  Differing 
views  are  referred  to  ;  and  objections  to  authorities  are  pointed  out.  The  in- 
tention is,  without  concealing  the  author's  own  conviction,  to  deal  fairly  by 
others. 


/ 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Put  term  cut  143 

are  made  in  fewer  hours  of  painful  toil,  so  that  more  leisure 
is  left  for  living  after  the  livelihood  is  won  by  labor.  And  if 
the  amount  of  dirty,  unpleasant  work  is  diminished,  and  the 
clean,  pleasant  labor  is  increased,  all  the  more  satisfactory  is 
the  situation. 

But  the  social  student  will  go  further  and  inquire  what  effect 
these  changes  in  industry  and  business  are  having  on  the  well- 
being  of  the  workers.  For  if  wealth  is  increasing  while  man 
decays,  it  is  a  sorry  outlook.  Wealth  is  for  man,  and  not  man 
for  wealth.  The  final  test  of  our  system  will  be  its  influence 
on  the  physical  and  spiritual  nature  of  man,  the  Social  Mem- 
ber. Industrial  progress,  therefore,  must  signify  longer  life 
of  the  workers,  better  health,  more  abounding  vitality,  surplus 
energy  for  recreation,  amusement,  and  education.  While  the 
defects  in  character  may  not  all  be  due  to  defects  in  factory 
and  trade,  yet  we  should  be  suspicious  of  our  industrial  order 
if  it  could  be  shown  to  increase  the  moral  degradation  of 
men.  Hence  the  statistics  of  pauperism,  crime,  illiteracy, 
use  of  libraries,  newspapers,  musical  and  other  artistic  agen- 
cies must  be  considered. 

All  these  factors  and  others  must  be  included  in  our  idea 
of  economic  progress,  and  not  merely  one  or  two  of  them. 
Wealth  must  be  translated  into  well-being  of  the  many,  or  it  is 
not  social  wealth,  national  wealth,  but  only  class  wealth. 

II.  Evidence  of  Economic  Progress  in  the  Se?ise  Defined.  — 
We  have  to  prove  that  the  sum  of  wealth  has  increased  since 
the  present  industrial  system  began  its  march,  early  in  this 
century,  that  a  greater  number,  absolutely  and  relatively,  enjoy 
this  increase,  and  that  this  multitude  has  made  good  use  of 
this  larger  fund  of  resources. 

We  must  at  once  notice  that  it  is  not  proposed  to  show  that 
this  progress  has  cost  nothing,  that  many  have  not  suffered, 
that  no  wrong  has  been  done,  that  all  has  been  just  as  kind 
and  fair  as  it  might  have  been.  No  one  but  a  crazy  optimist 
would  attempt  to  demonstrate  such  a  wild  proposition  as  that. 
Our  venture  is  more  modest,  and  it  is  confined  to  the  evidence 
of  the  assertion  that,  through  great  conflict  and  trial,  toil  and 
pain,  with  much  injustice  and  many  blunders,  the  great  ma- 
jority of  the  population  of  civilized  lands  have  made  progress 


144  Social  Elements 


in  the  possession  and  enjoyment  of  the  resources  of  the  best 
existence;  that  we  are  on  the  right  track,  moving  in  the  right 
direction.  It  is  true  we  must  still,  as  pilots  of  the  ships,  re- 
main on  watch,  and  be  alert  to  avoid  shoals  and  rocks. 

The  Annual  Production  of  the  Wealth  has  been  vastly  in- 
creased in  the  Present  Century,  and  Great  Improvements  may 
be  expected.  — This  fact  is  so  seldom  disputed  that  a  few  illus- 
trations will  be  sufficient. 

"Taking  the  true  valuation  of  the  real  and  personal  estate  of 
this  country  for  each  decade,  beginning  with  1850,  we  find 
that  the  total  wealth  was :  — 

In  1850,  $7,135,780,228,  or  $308  per  head. 
In  i860,  $16,159,616,068,  or  $514  per  head. 
In  1870,  $30,068,518,507,  or  $780  per  head. 
In  1880,  $43,642,000,000,  or  $870  per  head. 
In  1890,  $65,037,091,197,  or  $1036  per  head.1 

Wealth  is  three  times  what  it  was  in  the  fifties."  These 
figures  are  by  no  means  exact,  but  they  illustrate  the  upward 
movement. 

Steam  power  has  increased  in  the  United  States  from 
three  and  one-half  millions,  in  i860,  to  seventeen  millions 
horse-power,  in  1895;  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  from  two 
and  one-half  to  thirteen  millions;  Germany  from  seven- 
eighths  to  seven  and  two-thirds  millions;  and  France  from 
one  and  one-sixth  to  five  millions  horse-power.2 

The  increase  of  productive  power  has  been  most  manifest  in 
manufactures. 

"The  first  complete  census  of  manufactures  was  that  of 
1850,  and  the  returns  for  1890  show  that  they  increased  in 
value  ninefold  in  forty  years;  in  the  same  period  the  number 
of  operatives  multiplied  only  fivefold,  one  operative  now  pro- 
ducing nearly  as  much  as  two  did  in  1850."  3 

Manufactures  in  our  country  are  moving  westward  and  south- 
ward. In  1850,  New  England  represented  28  per  cent  of 
manufactures,  but  in  1890  only  one-sixth. 

1  C.  D.  Wright,  Atlantic  Monthly,  September,  1897,  p.  302. 

2  Mulhall,  Industries  and  Wealth  of  Nations,  p.  379;  W.  T.  Harris,  Forum, 
October,  1897. 

8  Mulhall,  Industries  and  Wealth  0/ Nations,  p.  292. 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment  145 

The  daily  earnings  per  inhabitant  increased  as  follows:  — 

Cts.         Cts. 

United  Kingdom i860,  43.8  to  49.3  in  1894-95 

France i860,  32.0  to  42.0  in  [894—95 

Germany 1866,  25.6  to  34.2  in  1894-95 

United  States i860,  38.6  to  58.8  in  1894-95 

Russia 1864,  10.9  to  12.6  in  1894-95 

Austria 1869,  19.6  to  21.7  in  1894-95 

Spain i860,  18.5  to  20.6  in  1894-95 

Italy i860,  16.3  to  18.6  in  1894-95 

Of  the  increase  in  agricultural  production  in  the  United 
States,  the  distinguished  English  authority  says:  "The  growth 
of  American  agriculture  in  the  half  century  has  been  unparal- 
leled in  any  age  or  nation,  the  production  of  grain  showing 
as  follows:  — 


Wheat. 

Maize. 

Oats,  Etc. 

Total. 

(Tons.) 

(Tons.) 

(Tons.) 

(Tons.) 

I S40     .     . 

.      .        2,100,000 

9,500,000 

3,800,000 

15,400,000 

1895    .   . 

.      .      11,700,000 

53,800,000 

23,900,000 

89,400,000 

"The  grain  crop  of  1895  was  equal  to  eight  tons  per  hand 
employed  in  farming,  the  average  in  Europe  being  two  tons: 
the  superiority  of  the  American  agriculturist  is  due  to  im- 
proved machinery.  Nevertheless,  all  parts  of  the  Union  have 
a  deficit  of  grain,  except  the  Western  states;  but  for  the  sur- 
plus crops  from  those  prairies  it  would  be  necessary  to  import 
eight  million  tons  yearly  for  the  food  of  men  and  animals." 

"There  has  been  such  an  improvement  of  agricultural 
machinery  in  late  years,  that  the  area  of  cultivation  per  farm- 
ing hand  rose  from  32  acres  in  1870  to  37  in  1880."  The 
value  in  money  of  agricultural  products  rose  from  $866,000,- 
000  in  1840  to  $3,903,000,000,  in  1S93.  ^  +  ?MAr~  '00 

Absolutely  and  relatiz;ely  the  number  of  persons  who  enjoy 
the  increase  of  income  has  steadily  grown. 

That  there  are  vastly  more  people  in  the  civilized  world 
than  there  were  one  hundred  years  ago  is  familiar  to  all. 
The  population  of  Europe  has  doubled  during  the  last  one 
hundred  years.  In  1801,  the  number  of  inhabitants  was  esti- 
mated at   175   millions,   and  in  1891  at  357  millions.     The 

1  W.  T.  Harris,  Forum,  October,  1897,  p.  197. 

L 


146  Social  Elements 


population  of  the  United  States  increased  from  3,929,214  in 
1790  to  62,622,250  in  1890. 1 

While  this  fact  is  generally  known,  its  full  significance  is 
seldom  realized.  With  the  social  arrangements,  the  tools, 
and  machinery,  the  modes  of  transportation  and  business  of 
the  last  century,  modern  lands  could  not  support  the  present 
number  of  inhabitants.  The  very  existence  of  so  many  people 
proves  that  our  economic  arrangements  are  improving.  If 
deep  misery  were  really,  and  on  the  whole,  increasing,  as 
some  boding  prophets  of  calamity  profess,  this  fact  of  increas- 
ing population  could  not  be  explained,  for  misery  kills.  In 
the  seventeenth  century  men  said  that  the  land  of  England  was 
full,  and  could  not  support  the  much  smaller  population  of 
that  age.  If  methods  of  industry  and  business  had  not  been 
made  vastly  better,  famine,  pestilence,  and  war  would  be 
necessary  to  keep  down  numbers  even  with  the  output  of  pro- 
ductive agencies. 

The  number  and  ratio  of  bread-winners  is  increasing  in  our 
country. 

"In  1870  there  were  12,505,923  persons  engaged  in  sup- 
porting themselves  and  the  remainder  of  the  people;  that  is 
to  say,  32.43  per  cent  of  the  total  population  were  so  engaged. 
In  1880  the  number  of  bread-winners  was  17,392,099,  or 
34.67  per  cent  of  the  total  population.  In  1890  this  number 
had  risen  to  22,735,661,  or  36.31  per  cent  of  the  total  popu-  'Otjf-h^ 
lation.     By  'bread-winners '   is   meant  all  who  are   engaged  '* 

either  as  wage-earners,  or  salary-receivers,  or  proprietors  of 
whatever  grade  or  description,  and  all  professional  persons  — 
in  fact,  every  one  who  was  in  any  way  employed  in  any  gain- 
ful pursuit.  The  figures  show  that  the  proportion  of  the 
total  population  thus  employed  is  constantly  increasing."2 

This  means,  in  part,  that  many  occupations  have  been  cre- 
ated by  specialization  of  industry,  by  multiplication  of  wants, 
by  the  invention  and  display  of  articles  of  convenience,  luxury, 
and  beauty.  It  also  means  that  more  than  four  hundred  modes 
of  earning  an  honest  living  are  now  open  to  women  instead  of 
a  dozen  or  more  to  which  they  were  shut  up  early  in  the  cen- 

1  Mayo-Smith,  Statistics  and  Sociology,  p.  368. 

2  C.  D.  Wright,  Atlantic  Monthly,  September,  1897,  p.  303. 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment  147 

tury.  If  it  be  true  that  women  are  doing  work  which  men 
once  did,  it  is  just  as  true  that  they  are  busy  with  the  creation 
of  values  which  would  not  exist  if  men  had  all  the  work  to  do. 
It  must  be  admitted  that  little  children  have  been  improp- 
erly employed  by  the  machine  industry;  but  the  evils  of  that 
custom  can  be  regulated  by  factory  laws,  as  is  done  in  older 
manufacturing  countries. 

The  Average  Rate  of  II  ages  and  of  Annual  Income  for  II  'age- 
earners  is  increasing  in  this  Conn  try.  —  One  of  the  chief 
sources  of  information  on  this  subject  is  the  report  of  Senator 
Aldrich,  of  the  Senate  Committee  on  Finance,  submitted  in 
March,  1S93.1  The  following  conclusion  has  been  drawn  by 
Mr.  C.  D.  Wright  from  the  facts  gathered  in  that  report. 

The  report  gives  the  course  of  wholesale  prices  and  of  wages 
from  1840  to  1 89 1,  inclusive,  a  period  of  52  years.  It  deals 
with  seventeen  great  branches  of  industry,  and  they  are  the 
principal  ones  in  the  country.  By  it  we  find  that,  taking  i860 
as  the  standard  at  100,  rates  of  wages  rose  from  87.7  in  1840 
to  160.7  in  1 891;  that  is,  an  increase  of  60.7  per  cent  from 
i860  and  of  73  per  cent  from  1840.  Taking  an  average 
according  to  the  importance  of  the  industries,  it  is  found  that 
the  gain  from  1840  to  1891  was  86  per  cent. 

Census  reports  show  aggregate  earnings,  and  also  the  number 
of  persons  among  whom  the  earnings  are  divided.  In  1850 
the  average  annual  earnings  of  each  employee  engaged  in  manu- 
facturing and  mechanical  pursuits,  including  men,  women,  and 
children,  in  round  numbers,  were  $247;  in  i860,  $289;  in 
1870,  $302;  in  1880,  $347;   in  1890,  $445.  lVo0 

"These  statements  for  the  United  States  can  De  supple- 
mented by  the  figures  for  the  state  of  Massachusetts.  By  the 
report  of  the  Massachusetts  Bureau  of  Statistics  of  Labor  on 
the  annual  statistics  of  manufactures  (1895),  it  is  found  that 
for  2427  establishments  in  1885  and  in  1895,  wages  were  re- 
ported which,  divided  among  their  employees,  amounted  to 
£361.62  in  1885  and  to  £418.99  in  1895."  - 

1  This  report  has  been  much  criticised  and  charged  with  partisanship. 
Some  of  the  criticisms  seem  just,  and  the  darker  facts  are  occasionally  con- 
cealed. But  this  report,  as  to  the  main  results,  agrees  with  the  other  authori- 
ties used,  —  English,  French,  and  American. 

-  C.  D.  Wright,  article  cited. 


148  Social  Elements 


It  is  desirable  to  correct  a  wild  notion,  which  seems  to  be 
popular,  that  if  the  wealth  and  product  of  industry  were 
equally  divided,  on  some  communistic  scheme,  that  every  man 
might  roll  in  luxury.  Nature  is  not  so  liberal  as  that,  and 
with  all  our  improvements  in  machinery  we  cannot  produce 
riches  by  magic.  If  we  take  into  account  all  forms  of  income 
in  this  country, —  agricultural,  mining,  transportation,  manu- 
facturing,—  it  comes  to  #11,751,728,858,  or  $1.5432  per 
person  each  day,  or  $10.80  per  week.  Any  one  who  receives 
3 1 1  a  week  has  more  than  his  share.  If  this  calculation  of 
Dr.  Harris  is  correct,  each  wage-earner  now  receives  very 
nearly  all  that  it  is  possible  on  the  average  to  divide  among 
so  many.  Mr.  Edward  Atkinson  has  made  similar  calcula- 
tions, with  practically  the  same  result. 

The  eminent  Socialist,  Mr.  Sidney  Webb,  agrees  with  these 
hopeful  writers  in  the  main  result,  so  far  as  England  is  con- 
cerned. "There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  incomes  of  the 
English  wage-earners  have,  on  the  whole,  risen  ;  prices  of 
commodities  have  fallen;  and  the  general  prosperity  of  the 
country  has  greatly  increased."1 

If  we  turn  from  income  to  possessions  which  represent  sav- 
ings and  accumulation,  we  have  other  cheering  evidence  that 
the  distribution  of  wealth  is  approaching  a  better  basis.  Tak- 
ing illustrations  from  Great  Britain,  whose  experience  is  always 
instructive  for  us:  "The  ratio  of  persons  (in  the  United  King- 
dom) above  want  rises  steadily,  in  spite  of  the  congestion  of 
wealth.  The  following  table  shows  the  relative  progress  of 
population  and  of  estates  over  ,£100  since  1840:  — 

1840  1877  1893 

Population 100  126  146 

Estates  over  ^"ioo 100  205  251 

"Thus  in  53  years  population  has  risen  46  per  cent,  and  in 
number  of  persons  who  left  estates  of  more  than  £100  at  their 
death,  151  per  cent;  in  other  words,  the  class  of  society  which 
may  be  considered  above  reach  of  want  has  grown  since  1840 
three  times  faster  than  the  general  population "  (Mulhall, 
Industries  and  Wealth  of  Nations,  p.  109). 

1  Industrial  Democracy,  II,  636;  Labor  in  the  Longest  Reign,  London,  1897; 
T.  H.  E.  Escott,  Social  Transformations  of  the  Victorian  Age,  1897. 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment  149 

In  the  statistics  of  savings  banks  we  find  another  sign  of 
improving  conditions.  In  the  United  Kingdom  "the  im- 
proved condition  of  the  working  classes  is  evident  from  the 
increased  number  of  depositors  in  savings  banks;  it  was  less 
than  4  per  cent  of  the  population  in  1850,  and  it  has  now 
arisen  to  19  per  cent."  l 

Mr.  C.  D.  Wright  is  authority  for  saying  of  the  United  States 
that  the  total  deposits  at  the  present  time  in  the  savings  banks 
of  this  country  are  about  two  billion  dollars,  one-half  of  which 
belongs  to  wage-earners.2 

For  the  United  States, 

In  1840  the  amount  due  each  depositor  was  $178 
In  1850  the  amount  due  each  depositor  was  $172 
In  i860  the  amount  due  each  depositor  was  $215 
In  1870  the  amount  due  each  depositor  was  $337 
In  1S80  the  amount  due  each  depositor  was  $350 
In  1890  the  amount  due  each  depositor  was  $358 
In  1893  tne  amount  due  each  depositor  was  $369 
In  1896  the  amount  due  each  depositor  was  $376 

The  Dollars  of  the  Present  will  buy  More  Goods  than  the 
Dollars  of  Our  Fathers.  —  Money  has  a  greater  purchasing 
power,  because  the  articles  of  constant  use  can  be  bought  more 
cheaply.  It  is  true  that  some  commodities  cost  more  than 
they  did  formerly;  but  then  they  are  better  in  quality,  and 
the  additional  price  is  more  than  offset  by  the  cheapening  of 
manufactured  and  imported  wares. 

Here,  again,  we  may  sum  up  the  evidence  of  statistics  in 
the  words  of  Mr.  C.  D.  Wright :  "  If  prices  decrease  or  remain 
stationary,  the  increase  in  the  rate  of  wages  is  a  positive  gain. 
Taking  all  articles  on  a  wholesale  basis,  and  as  compared  with 
the  standard  of  i860,  the  prices  of  223  articles  were  7.8  per 
cent  lower  in  1891  than  in  i860,  and  taking  1840  as  the 
standard,  with  85  articles  the  difference  was  3.7  per  cent. 

"Examining  prices  of  articles  on  the  basis  of  consumption, 
leaving  rent  out  of  consideration,  the  cost  of  living  is  shown 
to  have  been  between  4  and  5  per  cent  less  than  in  i860;  and 
taking  all  prices,  rents,  and  everything  into  consideration,  it 

1  Mulhall,  op.  cit.,  p.  101. 

2  Reports  of  Massachusetts  Bureau  of  Statistics  of  Labor,  1873-1874. 


150  Social  Elements 


must  be  concluded  that  living  was  not  much,  if  any,  higher 
in  1 89 1  than  it  was  in  1840,  while  the  rates  of  wages  had 
increased  as  stated."1 

Owing  to  the  superior  methods  of  production  and  the  higher 
rate  of  income  the  articles  of  consumption  and  enjoyment  are 
of  better  quality.  The  people,  on  the  average,  enjoy  more  of 
the  good  things  of  life  than  their  fathers. 

Who  has  not  listened  to  some  old  pioneer  reciting,  with  that 
pleasure  which  only  the  remembrance  of  conquered  difficulties 
can  give,  the  story  of  early  privations?  Land  was  free  in  those 
early  days,  and  any  one  could  have  all  he  would  take  and  till, 
for  it  had  no  commercial  value.  But  life  was  hard,  and  the 
means  of  enjoyment  were  meagre.  The  cloth  was  coarse  and 
made  by  hand.  Those  were  the  days  when  man  possessed  all 
he  produced,  and  did  not  divide  with  a  capitalist.  But  all 
he  produced  was  a  miserable  sum  of  goods. 

MacMaster,  in  his  History  of  the  United  States,  has  given 
us  many  details  of  the  modes  of  living  in  1784  in  the  United 
States.  "  The  tomato  was  not  only  uncultivated,  but  almost 
unknown.  Apples  and  pears  were  to  be  had  in  abundance, 
but  none  of  those  exquisite  varieties,  the  result  of  long  and  as- 
siduous nursing,  grafting,  and  transplanting,  which  are  now 
to  be  had  of  every  green-grocer.  The  raspberries  and  straw- 
berries were  such  as  grew  wild  on  the  hills,  and  the  best 
of  them  could  bear  comparison  neither  in  flavor  nor  in 
size  with  the  poorest  that  are  often  to  be  seen  at  county 
fairs.  Oranges  and  bananas  were  the  luxury  of  the  rich, 
and  were,  with  all  the  tropical  fruits,  rarely  seen;  for  few 
packets  could  then  make  the  voyage  from  the  West  Indies 
under  several  weeks.  Since  that  day  our  dinner-tables  have 
been  enriched  by  the  cauliflower  and  the  egg-plant.  No  great 
companies  existed  as  yet  for  the  distribution  of  ice.  This 
article,  since  come  to  be  regarded  as  much  a  necessity  of  life 
as  meat  and  bread,  and  which,  in  ten  thousand  ways,  adminis- 
ters to  our  comfort  and  promotes  our  health,  was  almost,  if 
not  quite,  unused.  The  coolest  water  the  tavern  could  afford 
came  from  the  town  pump.  Every  thunder-storm  curdled  the 
milk.     The  butter  was  kept  in  the  dampest  and  coolest  nook 

1  Article  cited. 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment  151 


of  the  cellar,  or  hung  in  pails  down  the  well."  The  news- 
papers were  small,  printed  on  inferior  paper,  and  gave  scant 
information.  "  Few  came  oftener  than  thrice  in  a  week,  or 
numbered  more  than  four  small  pages.  The  amount  of  reading 
matter  which  the  whole  forty-three  contained  each  week  would 
not  be  sufficient  to  fill  ten  pages  of  ten  daily  issues  of  the  New 
York  Herald:' 

The  Larger  Income  of  Wage-workers  has  been  earned  in  Days 
of  Shorter  Hours.  —  A  few  generations  ago  our  ancestors  in 
this  country  worked  nearly  all  their  waking  time,  and  lived  to 
work  rather  than  worked  to  live.  Severe  toil,  with  poor  tools, 
was  the  universal  lot.  Children  were  fortunate  in  frontier  life 
if  they  could  go  to  school  a  few  weeks  in  the  year,  and  they 
were  expected  to  share  the  labor  of  the  parents  from  the 
earliest  possible  moment.  Abraham  Lincoln  was  a  type  of 
his  class  and  time,  and  he  gained  his  education  in  the  inter- 
vals of  exhausting  labor.  "Between  1840  and  1891  the  hours 
of  labor  have  been  reduced  1.4  hours  in  the  daily  average. 
In  some  industries  the  reduction  of  hours  has  been  much 
greater,  while  in  others  it  has  been  less"  (C.  D.  Wright). 

The  Forms  of  Labor  are  Higher.  —  Much  of  the  most 
dangerous  and  disagreeable  labor  has  been  taken  up  by  ma- 
chinery and  various  mechanical  devices.  The  number  of 
unskilled  laborers  is  decreasing,  and  the  number  engaged 
in  tasks  requiring  more  intelligence  is  increasing.  The 
inventions  connected  with  plumbing  and  sewage  have  taken 
away  some  of  the  most  disagreeable  tasks  in  household 
life.  Ditch  digging,  one  of  the  most  trying  of  occupations, 
has  been  greatly  facilitated  by  machinery  unknown  in  former 
times.  The  appliances  for  lifting  and  stowing  away  hay  in 
lofts  have  come  as  a  deliverance  from  hours  of  hot  and  dusty 
and  stifling  labor.  In  all  modern  manufacturing  states  the 
laws  require  the  introduction  of  devices  for  removing  dust  and 
fumes  from  the  workshops,  much  to  the  advantage  of  the  health 
of  the  toilers.  As  the  laws  placing  the  liability  for  accidents 
and  injuries  upon  the  managers  improve,  the  business  itself 
will  at  last,  as  is  already  true  in  Germany,  carry  the  insurance 
risk,  and  the  consequence  will  be  that  employers  will  provide 
the  best  inventions  to  reduce  the  causes  of  injury  of  all  kinds. 


152  Social  Elements 


Many  of  the  most  disagreeable  industries  of  the  home  are 
now  made  comparatively  pleasant  by  the  use  of  machinery  in 
factories.  Thus  soap-making  is  no  longer  a  general  household 
industry,  and  the  residence  is  certainly  more  comfortable  for 
the  change.  Candles  are  made  by  machinery.  Fruit  is  canned 
on  a  wholesale  scale.  The  public  laundry,  with  its  rapid  and 
effective  methods,  is  gradually  driving  the  ill-smelling  and 
unhealthy  wash-day  terror  out  of  the  home.  Even  the  washing 
of  dishes  promises  to  be  handed  over  to  some  modern  gnome 
of  a  machine. 

If  we  divide  the  persons  engaged  in  gainful  employ- 
ments into  four  classes,  —  proprietors,  salaried  men  of  fair 
income,  skilled  artisans,  and  unskilled  laborers, —  we  find 
that  the  number  of  the  first  class  rose  from  10.7  per  cent  of 
the  whole  population  in  1870  to  11.22  per  cent  in  1890;  that 
members  of  the  second  class  were  0.91  per  cent  of  the  whole 
population  in  1870,  and  has  risen  to  be  2.15  per  cent  in  1890; 
that  members  of  the  third  class  were  6.59  per  cent  in  1870  and 
8.75  per  cent  in  1890.  But  during  the  same  period  the  mem- 
bers of  the  lowest  class  fell  in  numbers  from  14.76  per  cent  in 
1870  to  13.44  per  cent  in  1890  (C.  D.  Wright). 

Employment  for  Capable  Workers  seems  to  be  relatively  ??W7'e 
Certain  than  at  an  Earlier  Period.  —  It  is  true  that  severe 
vicissitudes  have  been  experienced  at  the  introduction  of 
some  new  invention  and  in  years  of  depression  and  financial 
uncertainty.  It  is  also  true  that  there  is  always  a  large  number 
of  persons  "unemployed,"  although  this  vague  term  needs  a 
good  deal  of  definition.  Many  are  forever  out  of  employment 
because  they  choose  to  live  on  charity  or  theft;  others  because 
they  have  never  been  taught  to  do  anything  that  is  wanted 
done;  so  that  a  great  part  of  the  army  of  the  "unemployed" 
could  not  be  used  in  the  best  of  times  without  some  training. 
But  if  the  foregoing  argument  is  approximately  sound,  then 
the  deduction  is  fair  that  work  for  the  capable  and  willing  is 
more  certain  than  it  formerly  could  be.  "  Rates  cannot  be 
increased  if  industrial  conditions  are  degenerating,  nor  can 
they  be  increased  or  sustained  in  the  presence  of  a  very  large 
body  of  unemployed  really  seeking  employment.  If,  there- 
fore,  rates   constantly   increase,  —  and    they   have    increased 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment  153 


steadily  in  the  economic  history  of  this  country, —  the  conclu- 
sion is  inevitable  that  conditions  themselves  have  improved  " 
C.  1).  Wright). 

The  Wage-workers  //are  Improved  in  Health. — They  live 
longer  and  they  lose  fewer  days  through  illness.  They  have 
higher  vitality,  and  presumably  more  physical  capacity  for 
enjoyment. 

It  seems  that,  owing  to  sanitary  progress,  the  rate  of  mor- 
tality was  so  reduced  from  1838-54  to  1871-80  that  in  the 
latter  period  the  gain  in  years  of  life  in  England  and  Wales 
was  2,000,000  years  of  life.  That  means  that  a  much  larger 
number  of  the  people  lived  to  become  producers  of  wealth, 
that  there  was  less  loss  of  time,  that  suffering  was  diminished 
and  happiness  increased.  The  expectation  of  life  at  birth 
increased  for  males  1.44  years  and  for  females  2.77  years, 
between  1838  and  1881.1 

The  Wage-earners  of  Civilized  Lands  have,  on  the  Whole, 
improved  in  Intelligence. — In  1885,  in  Massachusetts,  only 
6.12  per  cent  of  the  population  could  neither  read  nor  write, 
and  88  per  cent  of  these  were  foreign-born.  In  England  the 
illiterates  who  could  not  sign  their  marriage  registration  were, 
in  1843,  32-7  Per  cent  males  and  49.0  per  cent  females;  but 
in  1873,  schools  had  so  improved  conditions  that  only  18.8 
per  cent  of  males  and  25.4  per  cent  of  females  failed  under 
this  test.'2 

A  woman  who  uses  a  sewing-machine  employs  more  intelli- 
gence in  her  task  than  a  woman  who  worked  with  a  simple 
tool  like  a  needle.  A  locomotive  engineer  exercises  more 
intelligence  than  the  coach  driver  whom  he  displaced. 
Machinery,  by  enabling  men  to  do  far  more  work  in  fewer 
hours,  has  redeemed  time  for  reading,  and  the  immense  cir- 
culation of  newspapers  shows  that  readers  have  increased 
enormously.  In  some  occupations  less  intelligence  is  de- 
manded in  the  lower  and  more  mechanical  processes,  but  even 
in  these  lines  there  is  "more  room  at  the  top  "  for  persons  of 
quick  minds. 

The  aesthetic  result  of  the  factory  system  is  not  at  all  satis- 

1  R.  Mayo-Smith,  Statistics  and  Sociology,  p.  178. 

2  Ibid,  p.  194. 


154  Social  Elements 


factory.  "  It  vulgarizes  the  product,  it  stultifies  the  workman, 
it  deteriorates  public  taste;  the  very  buildings  in  which  its 
operations  are  performed,  the  emanations  they  emit,  give 
added  gloom  to  life."1 

While  this  picture  contains  only  too  much  truth,  it  is  not 
the  whole  truth.  The  buildings  in  which  the  earlier  hand- 
work was  carried  on,  in  the  "good  old  times"  of  household 
industry,  were  not  altogether  sweet  and  tidy,  and  could  not 
be.  Nor  is  an  ugly  building  essential  to  the  factory  system, 
as  many  of  the  factories  of  New  England  and  the  Pullman 
shops  prove.2 

The  Workers  are,  on  the  Whole,  improving  in  Character.  — 
The  pictures  of  immorality  and  debased  conduct  in  England 
early  in  this  century  among  working  people  are  now  almost 
incredible.  Drunkenness  was  almost  universal  and  a  matter 
of  course.  It  was  common  among  the  upper  classes  and  copied 
out  of  respect  for  their  position  by  all  below  them.  The 
laborer  aspired  to  be  "drunk  as  a  lord."  But  the  use  of  fiery 
liquors  has  diminished  in  Great  Britain  and  in  this  country. 
The  drinking  of  beer  has  come  to  be  more  general,  but  actual 
brutal  excess  is  nothing  like  as  general  as  it  once  was. 

The  regularity  of  discipline  required  by  the  factory  system 
and  machinery  is  conducive  to  temperance  and  self-control. 
An  old  compositor  quoted  by  Mr.  Webb  said :  "  I  always 
observed  that  those  trades  who  had  settled  wages,  such  as 
masons,  wrights,  painters,  etc.,  and  who  were  obliged  to 
attend  regularly  at  stated  hours,  were  not  so  much  addicted 
to  day  drinking  as  printers,  bookbinders,  tailors,  shoemakers, 
and  those  tradesmen  who  generally  were  on  piece  work,  and 
not  so  much  restricted  in  regard  to  their  attendance  at  work 
except  when  it  was  particularly  wanted."  3 

The  Wealth  owned  by  the  Community  has  vastly  Increased. — 
If  we  consider  the  services  rendered  to  all  occupations  with- 
out charge,  as  by  the  postal  department,  the  signal-service, 
the  lighthouses,  the  life-saving  corps,  the  agricultural  experi- 
ment stations,  and  by  scores  of  other  agencies,   it  becomes 

1  R.  W.  Cooke  Taylor,  The  Modern  Factory  System. 

2  Pidgeon,  Old  World  Questions  and  New  World  Ansivers. 

8  Webb,  Industrial  Democracy,  I,  326;  Ludlow  and  Jones,  Progress  of  the 
Working  Classes,  pp.  1-25. 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment  155 

apparent  that  each  sailor  and  mechanic,  each  carpenter  and 
ploughman,  enjoys  the  use,  occasionally  or  continuously,  of 
the  riches  and  the  organizations  of  the  nation  and  state. 

In  municipal  property  and  service  this  form  of  common 
wealth  is  literally  brought  home  to  us  all.  Year  by  year  the 
park  systems  and  the  facilities  for  reaching  them  are  extended. 
The  poorest  youth  has  near  at  hand  a  high  school  which  is,  in 
many  respects,  far  in  advance  of  the  college  of  our  grand- 
fathers, where  instruction  is  given  gratuitously  to  the  children 
of  the  nation.  Large  libraries  are  furnished,  and  free  reading 
rooms,  so  that  the  poorest  man  can  have  at  his  command  a 
stock  of  books  and  a  supply  of  periodicals  which  would  be 
beyond  the  power  of  the  millionnaire  to  buy  and  keep.  Gradu- 
ally the  costly  pictures  and  other  works  of  art  are  gathered  by 
cities  into  museums  and  galleries  accessible  on  certain  days 
without  fees  for  admission. 

Let  us  imagine  this  kind  of  property  extended,  as  it  cer- 
tainly will  be  in  the  near  future,  and  it  will  be  seen  that  most 
of  the  beautiful  and  delightful  things  of  existence  will  be  fur- 
nished by  the  community,  in  addition  to  wages,  in  return  for 
the  labor  which  supplies  the  means  of  support  and  pleasure. 
It  is  not  customary  to  count  up  wages  in  this  way,  but  the  real 
income  of  a  workingman  who  uses  public  wealth  must  include 
these  elements,  for  they  are  true  factors  of  the  sum  total  of 
reward  for  industry.  They  are  not  the  gifts  of  charity,  but 
the  product  of  the  toils  of  the  people,  and  the  more  civil- 
ized we  become,  the  more  these  higher  and  common  forms  of 
wealth  will  be  multiplied  and  appreciated. 

If  a  man  has  a  park  near  his  home,  he  will  have  less  need 
of  a  large  private  yard.  If  he  can  borrow  books  from  a  public 
library,  he  will  require  only  a  few  choice  classics  at  home, 
and  classics  are  very  cheap.  If  he  can  daily  visit  the  great 
galleries  where  walls  are  glorious  with  color,  he  need  not  be 
envious  of  the  rich  man  who  pays  $40,000  for  a  single  French 
painting.  If  the  city  furnishes  a  free  concert  in  the  public 
parks  and  halls,  as  it  well  may  do,  he  will  have  no  occasion 
to  envy  those  who  pay  large  sums  for  boxes  at  the  opera. 
And  when  the  city  itself,  in  all  its  parts,  becomes  a  grand 
work  of  exquisite  art,  as  parts  of  central  Paris  are,  the  work- 


156  Social  Elements 


men  may  truly  rejoice  in  the  wealth  which  each  citizen  owns 
and  helps  to  purchase. 

The  true  measure  of  general  welfare  is  not  equality  of 
wealth,  nor  even  of  income,  but  of  enjoyment.  Since  the 
means  of  enjoyment  owned  by  the  entire  community  is  con- 
stantly increasing,  the  real  well-being  of  the  people  is  more 
liberally  served.  With  universal  suffrage  the  matter  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  people;  they  can  acquire  for  all  just  what  the 
majority  demands,  through  taxation,  so  long  as  taxation  does 
not  cripple  capital  engaged  in  industry. 

But  are  the  wage-earners  happier  than  their  ancestors  who 
lived  in  hovels  and  shared  mean  huts  with  animals  and  looms? 
Who  can  tell  whether  people  are  happier  or  not?  All  we  can 
attempt  to  prove  is  that  they  have  the  means  for  larger  satis- 
faction and  culture;  but  happiness  cannot  be  reduced  to 
statistical  form.  The  census-taker  can  easily  discover  the 
number  of  paupers  in  the  population,  the  number  of  illiter- 
ates, of  criminals,  of  families  having  insufficient  room,  but  he 
never  seeks  to  discover  the  number  of  people  who  call  them- 
selves happy.  In  fact,  the  report  for  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning  might  require  amendment  by  noon,  when  the  workers 
are  hungry.  As  there  are  no  statistics  on  this  subject,  we 
abandon  it  to  those  who  like  to  amuse  themselves  with  conun- 
drums. The  measurement  of  the  immeasurable  belongs  to 
those  physiological  psychologists  who,  it  is  said,  having  meas- 
ured the  time  taken  for  its  reactions  by  the  physical  apparatus 
of  nerves,  declare  that  they  can  now  exactly  report  the  height 
of  a  joy,  the  depth  of  a  grief,  the  length  of  an  idea  of  immor- 
tality, and  the  number  of  ounces  in  a  weighty  consideration. 

III.  Causes  of  Economic  Progress.  Causes  of  Increased 
Production  and  Accumulation  of  Wealth.  —  Knowledge  of 
nature  is  power.  The  splendid  growth  of  the  physical  sciences 
in  this  century  has  added  to  the  resources  of  mankind  during 
all  coming  ages,  as  well  as  our  own.  All  beginnings  of  com- 
mand over  nature  come  from  new  knowledge  of  the  forces  of 
the  material  world,  of  water,  wind,  gas,  ores,  steam,  elec- 
tricity, heat,  magnetism,  light,  and  the  mechanical  principles 
which  underlie  the  arts.  It  is  in  the  laboratory  of  the  chem- 
ist,  physicist,   mineralogist,   and    in   the  observatory  of   the 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment  157 

astronomer,  that  the  first  gains  are  made.  Only  after  the  lover 
of  pure  truth  has  done  his  work,  can  the  practical  man  harvest 
the  crop  of  his  sowing.  The  general  public  sees  the  brilliant 
and  immediately  useful  invention  of  the  mechanic;  but  it 
often  forgets  the  years  of  obscure  toil  given  without  hope  of 
reward  or  immediate  practical  service  by  the  man  of  science. 

The  inventor  follows  the  scientist  and  discovers  the  utility 
of  the  labors  of  the  laboratory.  Sometimes  one  person  may 
unite  in  himself  the  two  kinds  of  ability,  that  of  discovery  of 
general  laws  and  that  of  useful  application.  Usually,  the  two 
forms  of  genius  are  not  found  in  one  person. 

But  neither  scientist  nor  inventor  can  make  a  device  practi- 
cally useful  to  society,  on  a  large  scale,  without  the  interven- 
tion of  the  business  manager;  and  it  is  largely  to  the  more 
perfect  organization  of  the  factory,  the  railroad,  the  bank,  and 
the  wholesale  trade  that  increasing  wealth  and  comfort  are 
due.  This  organization  is  a  very  high  form  of  intellectual 
work.  It  costs  effort,  and  can  be  achieved  only  by  men  of 
rare  and  peculiar  talent  or  genius.  These  managers  have  not 
seldom  become  rich  by  using  the  inventions  of  mechanics, 
not  always  giving  a  just  recompense. 

The  great  systems  of  transport,  made  possible  by  science, 
art,  and  business  sagacity,  have  been  a  mighty  factor  in  the 
multiplication  of  the  material  comforts  of  our  age.  To  sani- 
tary science  and  medical  art  are  due  the  improved  conditions 
of  city  and  country  life,  the  suppression  of  once  destructive 
plagues,  and  the  heightened  vitality  of  the  people  of  all 
occupations. 

Political  power  has  been  gained  by  the  wage-earners  during 
this  century  in  England,  France,  and  Germany,  and  the  share 
of  control  enjoyed  by  them  has  been  used  to  enlarge  privileges 
and  securities  without  number.  Legislation  more  and  more 
tends  to  protect  their  rights,  to  enable  them  to  help  them- 
selves, and  to  foster  their  enterprises.  Government  is  no 
longer  a  mere  night  watchman,  to  control  and  repress;  it  has 
become  the  organ  through  which  the  people  can  produce  wares, 
secure  advantages,  open  parks,  museums,  and  libraries,  and 
make  accessible  all  the  means  of  intellectual  and  spiritual 
culture. 


158  Social  Elements 


None  of  these  gains  would  be  possible  without  general  intel- 
ligence; and  therefore  the  multiplication  and  improvement  in 
institutions  of  education  must  be  counted  as  factors  in  forward- 
ing the  interests  of  wage-earners. 

The  culture  of  the  higher  life  reacts  upon  the  lower.  Where 
there  is  general  refinement,  noble  feeling,  a  spirit  of  frater- 
nity, a  devotion  to  religious  ideals,  there  we  have  reason  to 
expect  security  of  property,  a  just  regard  for  the  rights  of 
labor  and  of  possession,  and  a  diminished  friction  in  the  pro- 
cesses of  industry.  While  there  may  be  less  churchly  feeling 
than  formerly,  there  is  more  of  the  principle  and  of  the  fruit 
of  religion  than  ever  before. 

Causes  of  the  Increase  of  the  Share  secured  by  the  Wage- 
earner.  —  There  is  more  to  divide;  that  is  the  central  reason. 
In  a  poor  country,  without  machinery  and  free  from  the 
tyranny  of  capitalists  and  managers,  all  are  poor  together. 
Their  chief  luxury  is  that  they  have  no  one  above  them  to 
blame  or  envy,  for  all  are  in  the  dust.  In  a  rich  country,  the 
capable  workers  gain  something  and  the  managers  gain  still 
more,  if  they  are  successful. 

The  successful  managers  are  competitors  of  each  other  for 
the  best  workers.  Their  capital  lies  idle,  their  machines  rust 
away,  their  own  talents  are  useless,  without  "hands."  In 
order  to  secure  helpers  wages  are  offered,  and  the  price  goes 
up  to  a  point  where  men  are  willing  to  work.  The  most  intel- 
ligent manager,  with  the  most  perfect  machinery  and  organiza- 
tion, can  pay  the  highest  rates,  and  he  takes  the  first  choice  of 
wage-earners.  Competition  is  the  guaranty  to  the  wage-earners 
that  they  are  getting  the  market  rate  for  service. 

But  the  families  of  wage-earners  are  consumers,  and  all 
business  men  are  competing  with  each  other  to  gain  their  cus- 
tom. Competition  acts  to  secure  the  highest  income  to  the 
workers  and  the  lowest  cost  of  the  commodities  they  consume. 

But  competition  is  not  the  only  fact :  the  interest  of  all  com- 
peting capitalist  managers  is  to  get  work  done  at  as  low  a  rate 
as  possible;  to  employ  children,  for  example,  if  they  can  thus 
run  machines  at  less  expense.  Competition  does  not  always 
work  to  correct  abuses.  To  meet  such  cases  social  organiza- 
tion on  the  side  of  the  wage-earners  is  demanded.     The  action 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment  I  50 

of  trade  unions  will  be  considered  at  a  later  point,  and  the 
help  of  legislation  will  also  be  mentioned. 

The  effect  of  increased  efficiency  of  production  is  to  enlarge 
the  amount  of  products  available  to  the  laborer  as  a  consumer. 
What  does  he  do  with  this  surplus?  Four  possibilities  are 
open  to  any  group  of  laborers.  "  (1)  They  may  increase  their 
numbers,  making  the  average  size  of  their  families  larger. 
(2)  They  may  shorten  the  hours  of  labor.  (3)  They  may  en- 
large their  consumption  of  the  products  of  other  laborers. 
(4)  They  may  save  money;  that  is,  they  may  waive  the  enjoy- 
ment of  a  part  of  their  income  and  put  it  at  the  disposal  of 
other  members  of  the  community,  for  the  sake  of  a  future 
return  which  they  anticipate  from  such  present  abstinence  " 
(Hadley,  Economics). 

IV.  Objections  to  the  Factory  System.  —  Before  we  pass  from 
this  point,  it  is  desirable  to  notice  some  of  the  complaints 
often  heard  against  the  methods  of  industrial  organization  em- 
ployed under  the  modern  capitalistic  management  and  termed 
the  "factory  system." 

Some  of  these  objections  are  not  altogether  devoid  of  reason. 
There  are  evils  incidental  to  earthly  life  under  any  circum- 
stances, and  there  are  some  evils  wThich  attend  the  develop- 
ment of  the  particular  form  of  industry  under  consideration. 

The  Displacement  of  Wage-Earners  and  Loss  of  Employment 
by  "Labor-saving"  Machinery. — The  workman  who  has  lost 
his  place  because  a  machine  has  been  introduced  which  does 
the  work  of  four  or  even  of  fifty  men,  thinks  that  machinery  is 
certain  to  take  the  place  of  human  hands.  It  is  so  natural  to 
judge  the  world  by  our  own  little  brief  experience.  The  fact 
is  admitted  that  at  one  point,  and  for  a  limited  time,  machines 
do  drive  out  men.  But  in  doing  this  they  give  goods  at  less 
cost  to  the  community,  and  the  inconvenience  to  the  workman 
is  temporary,  though  it  may  be  severe,  and  for  persons  without 
savings  may  be  tragical. 

But  look  at  the  whole  range  of  facts.  Where  most  machin- 
ery is  used  there  are  the  best  wages  and  the  most  rapid  increase 
of  the  number  of  persons  employed.  The  railroad  did  indeed 
make  stage  coaches  useless,  but  they  opened  up  an  industry 
which  now  employs  826,620  men,  and  pays  in  wages  and  sala- 


160  Social  Elements 


ries  annually  $468, 8 24, 5 3 1.1  And  more  wagons  are  necessary 
than  ever  before  to  bring  goods  to  the  stations. 

Physical,  Intellectual,  and  Moral  Injury  to  the  Laborer  in 
Consequence  of  the  Use  of  Machinery.  —  This  criticism  takes 
many  forms.  Sometimes  it  is  claimed  that  machine  workers 
are  physically  injured,  and  facts  are  given  to  prove  the  asser- 
tion. The  monotony  of  certain  processes  is  very  great.  In 
some  occupations  the  dust,  fumes,  and  deleterious  materials 
hurt  the  workmen.  But  over  against  these  defects  it  may  be 
claimed  that  under  the  former  system  such  perils  were  even 
greater  than  they  are  now;  that  so  far  as  they  can  be  corrected, 
the  way  is  open  by  trade  union  and  legislative  action;  and 
that  the  increased  leisure  gives  a  chance  for  variety  of  exercise 
which  was  not  possible  with  hand  work.  Much  ill  health  now 
charged  to  the  factory  arises  from  bad  sanitary  conditions  in 
the  tenements,  and  corrective  means  must  be  directed  to  that 
point.  Health  has  improved  under  the  factory  system  and  in 
consequence  of  its  introduction. 

Industries  carried  on  in  homes  cannot  be  so  easily  inspected 
as  those  exposed  to  public  notice  in  great  establishments. 
The  worst  sanitary  conditions  are  not  found  in  the  mills  and 
factories,  but  among  the  poor  people  who  do  work  in  their 
own  miserable  and  narrow  homes. 

It  is  asserted  that  the  machine  industry  degrades  the  intel- 
lectual life  of  the  workmen.  In  many  trades  the  educative 
value  of  the  process  is  much  higher  than  that  of  old  simple  in- 
dustry. This  method  of  specialization  is  the  price  paid  for 
our  progress,  and  workingmen,  on  the  whole,  are  far  more 
intelligent  than  their  ancestors  in  similar  grades  of  industry, 
and  have  far  wider  opportunities  for  enjoying  the  educational 
agencies  of  the  age. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  the  factory  debases  moral  char- 
acter. But  the  statistics  in  France  seem  to  indicate  that  men 
in  machine  industries  are  less  addicted  to  drunkenness  than 
those  in  other  occupations,  and  this  is  probably  true  in  the 
United  States.  Prostitution  is  not  so  general  under  factory 
conditions  as  in  some  other  situations. 

It  is  charged  against  the  factory  system  that  it  increases  the 

1  Chicago  Dally  News  Almanac,  p.  247. 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment  161 

employment  of  women  and  children^  and  robs  them  of  home 
advantages.  It  is  admitted  that  work  which  takes  mothers 
away  from  home  is  a  serious  social  evil,  but  the  extent  of  it 
has  often  been  exaggerated.  The  fact  that  women  and  girls, 
without  the  responsibilities  of  housekeeping,  are  employed 
may  not  be  entirely  ideal,  but  if  they  must  work  to  help  make 
a  living,  it  is  better  that  they  should  have  the  best  machinery 
and  be  surrounded  by  good  sanitary  conditions,  such  as  house- 
hold industry  can  never  afford. 

So  far  as  little  children  are  concerned,  their  employment  in 
factories  must  be  prevented  by  factory  legislation  and  by  com- 
pulsory education  acts.  The  suitable  place  for  a  child  is  in 
school;  his  present  duty  is  to  play,  grow,  and  learn.  The 
employment  of  infants  is  no  essential  part  of  the  factory 
system. 

Our  grandmothers  were  by  no  means  idle,  and  most  of  them 
toiled  hard  and  long.  Many  of  them  died  from  the  hardships. 
The  difference  is  in  favor  of  the  modern  factory  girl,  who  has  a 
purse  of  her  own.  Some  express  the  fear  that  this  indepen- 
dent purse  will  make  girls  unwilling  to  marry,  and  so  the 
family  will  die  out.  Statistics  do  not  support  the  fear.  The 
factory  girl  is  not  compelled  to  take  up  the  first  vagabond  who 
offers.  She  can  afford  to  wait  till  the  eligible  person  "puts  in 
his  appearance.  Her  very  independence  places  a  premium 
on  sobriety  and  morality  in  men.  Cupid  takes  care  of  the 
rest;  for  factory  girls  spend  much  of  their  earnings  making 
themselves  pretty,  as  is  natural  and  proper;  and  statistics  show 
they  soon  find  husbands. 

In  backward  countries  a  larger  proportion  of  women  and 
children  give  their  entire  lives  to  toil  than  in  capitalistic 
lands.  The  census  reports  show  for  our  own  country  an  in- 
creasing proportion  of  men  engaged  in  manufactures,  a  nearly 
stationary  proportion  of  women,  and  an  actually  decreasing 
proportion  of  children. 

"But  the  rich  are  growing  richer,  and  that  of  itself  is  enough 
to  condemn  the  modern  system  of  industry  and  business"  — 
This  is  an  objection  hard  to  answer  because  it  is  based  on  a 
fact  and  is  uttered  very  frequently  in  a  state  of  mind  which 
does  not  admit  argument. 

M 


1 62  Social  Elements 


Take  the  state  of  mind  first.  If  we  assume  without  argu- 
ment that  inequality  of  riches  is  itself  bad  and  dangerous,  then 
the  working  of  our  social  system  is  vicious,  for  not  only  are 
there  great  inequalities,  but  the  inequality  is  growing  greater 
all  the  time.  When  this  fact  is  published,  there  are  always 
plenty  of  people  to  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  the  nation  is 
in  a  bad  way  and  that  nothing  short  of  a  revolution  will  save 
us  from  ruin.  It  seems  to  do  no  good  to  these  excited  persons 
to  show  them  that  they  are  themselves  growing  richer.  The 
bitter  drop  is,  that  some  other  persons  are  accumulating  wealth 
still  more  rapidly.  It  is  difficult  to  reason  with  envy.  Almost 
as  difficult  is  it  to  persuade  the  generous  philanthropist  who 
has  adopted  a  theory  of  "liberty,  fraternity,  and  equality," 
when  he  fixes  emphasis  on  equality  and  forgets  liberty.  One 
may  as  well  try  to  conduct  a  concert  in  a  thunderstorm  as  to 
convince  the  good  man  whose  conscience  is  chained  to  a 
prejudice. 

But,  assuming  that  we  are  dealing  with  persons  who  simply 
wish  to  know  the  truth,  let  us  look  calmly  at  some  of  the  facts. 
"The  rich  are  growing  richer;  many  more  people  than  for- 
merly are  growing  rich"  (C.  D.  Wright).  "Nearly  80  per 
cent  of  the  total  wealth  is  held  by  one  and  one-half  per  cent 
of  the  adult  population.  The  middle  class  stands  for  1 1  per 
cent  of  the  population,  and  holds  18  per  cent  of  the  wealth." 
The  largest  fortunes  are  increasing  most  rapidly.  Such  are 
the  statements  of  Mr.  Mulhall,  although  he  does  not  tell  us 
clearly  how  he  reaches  his  results.1 

Admitting  the  charge  that  the  rich  are  growing  richer,  and 
even  more  rapidly  than  the  rest  of  society  —  what  of  it?  Are 
we  thereby  made  poorer?  Are  we  deprived  of  any  comfort 
or  enjoyment?  May  it  not  be  worth  considering  whether  this 
arrangement  may  not  be,  on  the  whole,  better  for  us?  All 
can  see,  and  socialists  especially  insist,  that  production  is 
best  promoted  by  the  concentration  of  capital. 

The  capitalist,  as  capitalist,  does  not  eat  and  does  not  burn 

1  Mr.  Spahr,  in  Tke  Distribution  of  Wealth  in  the  United  States,  has  given 

figures  based  on  various  public  records,  and  "  estimates,"  and  which  emphasize 
this  tendency.  See  the  criticism  of  Mr.  Spahr's  method  of  reaching  his  results, 
in  the  Pol.  Sci.  Quarterly,  1897,  Vol.  XII,  p.  395,  by  Professor  R.  Mayo-Smith. 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment  163 

capital,  but  invests  it,  pays  wages  and  salaries,  employs  men, 
produces  goods,  acts  as  the  trustee  and  agent  of  society  for  the 
conduct  of  its  affairs.  If  rich  men  get  more  income,  they 
serve  more  people  and  on  a  larger  scale. 

Why  have  these  vast  accumulations  of  productive  wealth 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  their  present  possessors?  Is  it  not  at 
least  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  they  are  the  most  suitable  per- 
sons for  the  business?  The  very  fact  that  they  have  succeeded 
where  others  failed  proves  that  they  are  the  right  persons. 
Could  there  be  abetter  test?  If  there  is  a  better  test  and  one 
more  just,  has  it  ever  been  revealed?  We  are  not  now  discuss- 
ing the  cases  of  clear  stealing.  There  are  rich  thieves  as  well 
as  poor.  But  to  assume,  without  proof,  that  dishonesty,  ras- 
cality, oppression,  injustice,  and  utter  want  of  conscience  are 
the  supreme  qualifications  for  business  success  is  monstrous. 
The  business  of  the  world  is  made  possible  by  credit.  Bil- 
lions of  dollars  pass  from  hand  to  hand  every  year  without 
more  evidence  than  entries  in  books  and  promises  to  pay. 
These  enterprises  are  spread  over  the  world,  from  Siberia  and 
China  to  San  Francisco  and  London.  The  credit  system  is 
the  grandest  proof  the  world  ever  produced  of  integrity  and 
its  commerical  value.  The  man  who  violates  his  trust  is  a 
pariah.  The  petty  confidences  of  ordinary  life  have  nothing 
to  compare  with  the  gigantic  structure  of  commercial  credit, 
a  word  which  carries  on  its  face  the  triumph  of  honesty  in  the 
great  world  of  capitalist  managers. 

"There  are  two  origins  of  very  large  fortunes.1  First,  the 
founders  may  have  been  persons  of  great  ability  to  make  com- 
binations,—  such  combinations  as  reduce  the  cost  of  collection 
and  distribution  of  goods.  Combinations  that  do  this  save, 
first,  to  the  producer,  who  can  get  more  for  his  goods,  and, 
second,  to  the  consumer,  who  is  saved  something  in  the  ex- 
pense of  procuring  his  food,  clothing,  fuel,  etc.,  from  the 
producer.  This  class  of  wealthy  men  helps  society  by  redu- 
cing the  number  of  middlemen  and  by  managing  more  effi- 
ciently collection  and  distribution.     The  laying  of  a  pipe-line 

1  There  are  two  points  of  view  to  this  question.  Mr.  Lloyd's  Wealth  against 
Commonwealth,  and  Mr.  H.  George,  Progress  and  Poverty,  may  be  consulted  for 
the  other  side.     Encyclopedia  of  Social  Reform,  Article  "  Wages." 


164  Social  Elements 

from  the  oil  regions  in  the  West  to  the  great  commercial 
markets  and  centres  of  distribution  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  for 
instance,  saves  immediately  in  the  distribution  of  oil,  render- 
ing it  possible  for  the  producers  to  lower  the  cost  of  oil  in  the 
cities  of  the  East  to  one-third  its  former  price;  at  the  same 
time  it  enables  the  oil  company  itself  to  amass  large  fort- 
unes on  the  balance  of  saving  reserved  for  the  stockholders. 
Another  example  is  furnished  by  the  trunk  railroads  connecting 
the  Atlantic  with  the  Mississippi  valley.  Vast  combinations  of 
capital  consolidate  roads  into  through  lines;  and,  by  building 
extra  tracks,  using  steel  rails,  larger  engines,  and  better  cars, 
the  cost  of  freight,  which,  thirty  years  ago,  was  from  three  to 
four  cents  a  mile,  is  reduced  to  one  cent  a  mile  per  ton.  The 
amount  of  money  added  to  the  fortunes  of  the  capitalists  by 
these  combinations  is  enormous;  but  the  amount  of  money 
added  to  the  value  of  the  Western  farms,  oil  wells,  mines,  and 
house  property  by  saving  in  the  cost  of  transportation,  is  much 
larger  than  the  amount  that  capital  obtains  for  the  combina- 
tions. Besides  this,  the  consumers  resident  on  the  Atlantic 
coast,  engaged  in  manufactures,  the  consumers  of  the  agricult- 
ural products  of  the  West,  pay  but  one-third  as  much  for 
transportation  on  the  bread  materials,  the  coal,  and  other 
items  brought  by  railway,  and  thus  share  in  the  aggregate  of 
saving  made  by  the  financiers  who  created,  by  the  aid  of 
capital,  the  combinations  which  decrease  the  cost  of  connect- 
ing producer  and  consumer."1 

Speculation.  —  A  more  serious  criticism  of  business  leaders 
is  directed  against  their  speculation.  It  is  popularly  thought 
that  a  few  men  on  the  boards  of  trade  in  grain  centres  can 
send  the  price  up  and  down  and  change  the  price  of  the 
necessities  of  life  at  their  will.  How  far  this  is  possible  need 
not  be  argued  here.  The  modern  modes  of  exchange,  on  the 
testimony  of  the  greatest  economists,  tend  rather  to  even  prices 
throughout  the  year  than  to  make  them  extreme.  If  wheat  and 
corn  are  to  be  supplied  in  right  quantities,  and  at  the  places 
most  needed,  it  is  essential  that  there  should  be  social  machin- 
ery for  purchase  and  distribution,  and  this  machinery  is  a 
service  to  the  world.     A  comparatively  few  men  take  the 

1  W.  T.  Harris. 


Tendency  toward  Economic  Betterment  165 

largest  risks  of  the  uncertain  future,  and  frequently  gain  im- 
mense riches  out  of  the  ventures.  More  frequently  those  who 
attempt 'the  enterprise  fail;  and  those  who  are  foolish  and 
wicked  enough  to  trade  from  outside,  in  utter  ignorance  of 
the  conditions  of  the  world-market,  suffer,  as  they  ought  to 
suffer,  severely,  for  meddling  in  a  most  intricate  business 
which  they  have  not  learned.  Probably  speculation,  on  the 
whole,  does  not  raise  the  average  prices  for  the  people,  be- 
cause these  prices  are  set  by  world-wide  causes  beyond  the 
control  of  the  most  powerful  merchants;  and  the  influence  of 
speculation  is  rather  to  steady  and  lower  prices,  and  to  prevent 
local  famines. 

Connected  with  the  necessary  and  legitimate  speculation  of 
cities  is  a  vast  amount  of  sheer  gambling.  It  is  difficult,  per- 
haps impossible,  to  distinguish  this  from  ordinary  trading. 
It  is  difficult  to  frame  laws  which  will  suppress  this  form  of 
gambling  without  injuring  honest  commerce.  There  is  much 
betting  on  the  speed  of  Atlantic  "liners,"  but  no  one  ever 
proposed,  as  a  cure  for  gambling,  to  fine  captains  of  twin-screw 
propellers  for  breaking  the  record.  It  were  a  wicked  action 
to  fire  grape-shot  into  a  holiday  multitude  in  order  to  kill  a 
thief  who  was  making  his  escape  from  a  policeman.  Ingrati- 
tude is  one  of  the  basest  of  vices,  but  no  lawyer  would  try  to 
frame  a  penal  law  against  it.  We  must  trust  something  to  the 
growth  of  enlightened  conscience,  to  the  codes  of  professional 
honor,  and  to  the  natural  penalties  of  anti-social  conduct. 
For  the  more  obvious  violations  of  justice  criminal  statutes 
can  be  devised.  The  tares  cannot  be  pulled  up  until  the 
harvest,  for  fear  of  uprooting  good  wheat  with  them.  We 
remember  what  happened  to  the  tares  when  the  gathering-time 
did  come. 

If  any  one  thinks  that  the  present  chapter  is  too  bright  and 
hopeful  to  be  true,  and  that  it  does  not  contain  the  whole 
story,  let  him  observe  carefully  the  limits  of  each  proposition, 
and  then  read  the  following  chapters  as  part  of  the  same  dis- 
cussion. There  is  another  side,  and  it  is  gloomy  enough. 
Perhaps  we  should  not  dare  to  look  upon  it  if  we  were  not 
sustained  by  first  fortifying  our  hope  with  the  consideration 
of  the  tendencies  which  make  for  happiness.     To  this  sombre 


1 66  Social  Elements 


picture  we  shall  turn  attention.  But  first  we  must  consider 
the  Social  Movement,  the  conscious  and  cooperative  effort  of 
society  on  behalf  of  the  masses  of  independent  and  self-sup- 
porting population.  For  the  progress  whose  principal  facts 
we  have  just  summarized  is  the  effect  of  many  causes,  among 
which  are  the  deliberate  and  cooperative  action  of  human 
beings. 


CHAPTER   IX 

The  Social  Movement  for  Economical 

Betterment 

"  Behold,  the  tears  of  such  as  were  oppressed,  and  they  had  no  com- 
forter; and  on  the  side  of  their  oppressors  there  was  power;  but  they  had 
no  comforter.  .  .  . 

"Two  are  better  than  one;  because  they  have  a  good  reward  for  their 
labor. 

"  For  if  they  fall,  the  one  will  lift  up  his  fellow;  but  woe  to  him  that  is 
alone  when  he  falleth,  for  he  hath  not  another  to  help  him  up. 

"Again,  if  two  lie  together,  then  they  have  heat;  but  how  can  one  be 
warm  alone? 

"  And  if  one  prevail  against  him,  two  shall  withstand  him;  and  a  three- 
fold cord  is  not  quickly  broken."  —  (Ecc.  iv.  I,  9-12.) 

"  Have  ye  founded  your  thrones  and  your  altars,  then, 
On  the  bodies  and  souls  of  living  men? 
And  think  ye  that  building  shall  endure 
Which  shelters  the  noble  and  crushes  the  poor? 

"  Then  Christ  sought  out  an  artisan, 
A  low-browed,  stunted,  haggard  man, 
And  a  motherless  girl,  whose  ringers  thin 
Pushed  frcm  her  faintly  want  and  sin. 

"  These  set  he  in  the  midst  of  them, 
And  as  they  drew  back  their  garment-hem 
For  fear  of  defilement,  '  Lo,  here,'  said  he, 
*The  images  ye  have  made  of  me.'  " 

—  J.  R.  Lowell,  A  Parable. 

I.  Definition  of  the  Social  Movement ;  Its  Meaning  and 
Typical  Forms.  —  We  are  to  consider  at  this  point  the  con- 
scious positive  and  organized  efforts  to  enable  the  operative 
members  in  the  population  to  secure  an  increasing  share  in 
the  increasing  goods  of  our  civilization. 

167 


1 68  Social  Elements 


What  is  the  "meaning"  of  the  movement  as  thus  limited? 
The  meaning  of  the  social  movement  is  its  end,  the  goal 
toward  which  social  thought  and  action  are  tending.  This 
end  is  not  seen  with  equal  clearness  by  all  who  are  engaged 
in  it;  and,  in  fact,  a  social  movement  is  a  voyage  of  discovery 
even  to  the  most  far-seeing  men.  Columbus  could  look  further 
than  his  ignorant  crew,  but  he  could  not  see  across  the  ocean. 
He  himself  must  travel  to  discover  the  new  world.  "  The  baby 
in  the  cradle  cries,  for  reasons  that  he  does  not  understand, 
and  would  not  admit  if  they  were  explained  to  him.  The 
instinct  of  mother  and  nurse  finds  out  what  kind  of  pain  pro- 
duces the  cry.  The  social  movement  is  to  a  considerable 
extent  a  spontaneous  cry  of  pain  and  a  spasmodic  clutching 
for  pleasure;  the  sources  of  the  pain  and  pleasure  are  not 
known  by  the  majority  who  make  the  demonstration.  They 
are  not  altogether  beyond  analysis  and  explanation  "  (A.  W. 
Small). 

The  unconscious  workings  of  the  human  spirit  propel  a 
nation  forward  along  a  path  never  before  trodden.  Deep 
below  conscious  and  reflective  thought  there  seethe  and  fer- 
ment the  dim  aspirations,  the  inarticulate  hungers,  the  un- 
spoken cravings,  of  the  growing  soul  of  man.  Some  day  a 
leader  arises  among  them  who  puts  into  clear  and  impressive 
speech  just  what  they  mean,  and  they  recognize  and  applaud. 
Discussion  and  interchange  of  views  make  the  purpose  still 
more  clear;  the  merely  accidental  elements  are  dropped;  the 
selfish  factor  is  sifted  out;  the  large  human  interest  is  defined, 
based  on  solid  argument  and  presented  to  the  entire  com- 
munity as  a  thing  ready  for  adoption  and  action.  The  leader 
of  insight  is  often  a  man  of  the  literary  class,  a  poet  or  essayist, 
as  Coleridge,  Macaulay,  George  Eliot,  Dickens,  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing; or  a  statesman  from  among  the  people,  as  Lincoln;  or  a 
philanthropist  of  large  culture  and  sympathy,  as  the  Earl  of 
Shaftesbury;  or  an  economist,  like  some  of  the  great  teachers 
of  the  "historical"  and  "socialistic"  type  in  Germany  and 
other  countries;  or  one  whom  some  polite  people  sneeringly 
call  "demagogues"  and  "agitators,"  men  who  keep  close  to 
the  wage-earning  population  and  understand  them.  The 
"settlements"  promise   to   furnish   us  persons  of   education 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     169 


who  acquire  this  insight  by  residence  among  the  struggling 
multitudes,  as  Miss  Jane  Addams,  Canon  Barnett,  and  a  goodly 
company  of  others. 

Professor  R.  T.  Ely,  who  has  studied  the  literature  of  the 
Labor  Movement  very  patiently,  thus  defines  it:  — 

"The  labor  movement  in  its  broadest  terms  is  the  effort  of  men  to  live 
the  lives  oi"  men.  It  is  a  systematic,  organized  struggle  of  the  masses  to 
obtain  primarily  more  leisure  and  Larger  economic  resources;  but  that  is 

not  by  any  means  all,  because  the  end  and  purpose  of  all  is  a  richer  exist- 
ence for  the  toilers,  and  that  with  respect  to  mind,  soul,  and  body.  1  Ialf 
conscious  though  it  be,  the  labor  movement  is  a  force  pushing  toward  the 
attainment  of  the  purpose  of  humanity;  in  other  words,  the  end  of  the 
growth  of  mankind,  —  namely,  the  full  and  harmonious  development  in 
each  individual  of  all  human  faculties  —  the  faculties  of  working,  perceiv- 
ing, knowing,  loving;  the  development,  in  short,  of  whatever  capabilities 
of  good  there  may  be  in  man." 

This  statement  need  not  be  changed  in  a  single  word  to 
express  the  purpose  of  education  and  the  school.  Indeed,  the 
school,  the  church,  the  state,  are  simply  various  forms  of  one 
great  movement  of  society,  in  which  the  "  Labor  Movement " 
is  one  current.  The  larger  tendency  would  be  fruitless  without 
this  factor. 

The  Social  Movement  is  more  than  the  Labor  Movement 
as  Professor  Ely  defines  it,  because  almost  all  classes  in  the 
country  are  interested  in  the  means  of  securing  diffusion  of 
the  means  of  well-being  by  various  modes  of  cooperation. 
Mere  individual  enterprise,  severed  from  association,  is  less 
and  less  promising.  Managers  of  trusts  have  shown  us  the 
true  way  to  security,  the  path  of  concentration  and  combina- 
tion.    Their  example  is  instructive. 

"The  social  movement  is  thus  more  than  a  class  movement.  It  includes 
among  its  active  promoters  people  of  all  social  strata,  except  perhaps  the 
enormously  rich,  or  the  idle  rich,  and  even  these  do  not  always  oppose 
the  tendencies  that  I  am  describing.  The  social  movement  is  popular  in  the 
most  inclusive  sense,  i.e.,  it  is  made  up  of  all  sorts  of  people.  Property  is 
universally  conservative,  but  in  our  day  great  property  holders  who  on  the 
whole  sympathize  with  the  main  tendencies  of  the  social  movement  are  by 
no  means  rare.  The  social  movement  is  thus  not  the  inertia  of  the  many 
slightly  disturbed  by  the  few,  it  is  the  momentum  of  the  many,  hardly  re- 
strained by  all  the  arts  that  the  few  can  contrive."  x 

1  Professor  A.  W.  Small,  Am.  Jour.  Sociology,  November,  1897. 


170  Social  Elements 


If  one  member  suffers,  all  suffer.  Therefore  the  oppression 
of  one  class  is  an  injury  to  all  others,  and  most  of  all  to  the 
oppressor.  It  is  better  to  suffer  wrong  than  to  do  wrong;  and 
there  is  no  element  in  the  community  to  which  universal  justice 
is  so  vital  as  the  small  class  of  the  rich.  It  is  not  only  neces- 
sary that  they  should  be  just,  but  that  other  men  should  believe 
that  they  are  just.  The  smallest  class  is  the  most  helpless. 
If  the  majority  should  ever  come  to  have  the  conviction  that 
cur  social  system  rests  on  falsehood  and  unfairness,  the  first 
tc  suffer  would  be  those  who  are  conspicuous  for  their  wealth. 

In  still  another  sense  the  movement  of  which  we  are  think- 
ing is  a  social  movement:  it  is  more  than  a  particular  problem 
of  a  special  science,  as  demography,  statistics,  economics,  or 
jurisprudence.  Attempts  to  ameliorate  the  conditions  of  life 
for  the  multitude  must  borrow  knowledge  from  all  these  studies, 
must  seek  advice  and  help  from  practical  leaders  in  industry, 
politics,  and  education,  and  even  in  practical  arts;  but  the 
social  movement  must  organize  the  thought  of  all  these  depart- 
ments; must  proceed  not  in  sections  but  as  one  army;  must 
unify  the  various  theoretical  considerations;  and  must  move 
onward  with  each  particular  measure  in  its  right  place  with 
reference  to  every  other  measure  of  contemporary  life.  It  is 
this  very  fact,  more  than  any  other,  which  has  created  a  demand 
for  some  such  a  study  as  sociology,  —  a  demand  which  is  made 
first  in  the  interest  of  practical  guidance,  and  then  in  the 
interest  which  always  follows,  the  scientific  desire  for  unity 
and  completeness.  We  may  dislike  the  title  of  the  study,  and 
we  may  rightly  think  that  the  achievements  of  the  discipline 
up  to  date  are  very  doubtful  and  scanty,  but  the  human  mind 
will  most  certainly  proceed,  now  that  it  is  started,  with  this 
bold  enterprise.  Nor  is  this  systematic  knowledge  of  society 
needed  by  the  statesman  alone,  but  by  all  citizens  of  influence. 
The  state  by  no  means  covers  all  the  sphere  of  the  life  of  a 
citizen. 

II.  The  Scope  of  the  Social  Movement.  —  The  differentiation 
of  a  wage-supported  class,  distinguished  from  the  employing 
class,  in  modern  industry,  is  the  primary  occasion  for  our 
present  study.  The  social  question  becomes  acute  first  of  all 
among  the  multitudes  of  factory  hands,  who  are  brought  closely 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     \J\ 

together  in  large  establishments,  and  have  an  opportunity  of 
comparing  views  and  debating  common  interests  and  griev- 
ances. These  men  are  congregated  in  manufacturing  towns 
and  cities.  It  is  in  these  centres  of  crowded  populations  that 
a  class  opinion  is  formed,  which  seems  natural  and  just  to 
those  who  are  in  the  circle,  and  often  seems  strange  and  even 
immoral  among  those  who  are  not  in  touch  with  the  wage- 
earning  body. 

The  agricultural  laborers  in  all  modern  countries  have 
scarcely  touched  this  movement  as  organized  bodies  with 
clearly  defined  policies.  Aggregation  and  congregation  pre- 
cede discussion.  Men  who  never  meet  are  not  able  to  clear 
up  their  ideas  and  shape  a  definite  line  of  action.  Very  little 
attention  is  given  to  the  wage-workers  of  the  farms,  because 
they  have  few  organs  for  the  publication  of  their  wrongs  and 
hopes.  The  members  of  this  class  are  widely  separated. 
Many  of  them  are  young  men  who  expect,  at  least  in  this 
country,  to  become  owners  of  land  and  employers  of  others, 
and  therefore  have  not  that  feeling  of  separate  class  interest 
which  is  natural  in  factory  hands,  who  never  hope  to  become 
managers  of  business. 

As  the  number  of  capitalist  managers  becomes  relatively 
smaller,  a  growing  number  of  the  salaried  classes  discover 
that  they  have  many  interests  in  common  with  others  who  are 
excluded  from  a  direct  share  in  controlling  the  industry  of  the 
land.  Clerks,  salesmen,  government  servants,  school  teachers, 
and  multitudes  of  others  find  out  slowly  that  they  are  related 
to  members  of  the  operative  class.  They  have  no  share  in 
"profits,"  but  must  live  mainly  by  regular  earnings  and  from 
the  income  of  property  which  brings  a  low  rate  of  interest. 
Thus  we  see  the  cause  of  the  organization  of  members  of  each 
profession  on  principles  quite  similar  to  those  of  the  trade 
unions. 

The  professional  and  salaried  classes  have  this  in  common 
with  the  humblest  wage-workers,  that  the  instruments  of  pro- 
duction, machinery,  factories,  and  business,  being  under  the 
control  of  the  manager  class,  all  other  classes  are,  in  great 
measure,  at  their  mercy.  The  men  who  possess  and  direct 
the  great  establishments  of  manufacture  and  the  systems  of 


172  Social  Elements 


transportation  constitute  a  relatively  limited  part  of  society  at 
large.  Over  against  the  capitalist  directors  stand  all  the  other 
members  of  society,  as  consumers.  For  certain  purposes  there 
is  unity  of  interest  between  the  wage-earners  and  the  great 
majority  of  other  citizens. 

'  In  the  cities  the  vivid  contrast  between  riches  and  moderate 
means  is  forced  daily  upon  the  attention.  Even  if  the  wealthy 
do  not  purposely  display  the  signs  of  their  power,  it  comes 
out  in  a  thousand  ways.  The  beautiful  carriages  drawn  by 
richly  caparisoned  horses  along  the  boulevards,  the  charming 
costumes  of  the  women,  the  gay  parties  at  the  operas,  the 
luxury  of  the  pew-holders  in  fashionable  churches,  the  reports 
of  splendid  interiors  of  mansions  made  beautiful  by  the  gifted 
sons  of  art,  the  precious  collections  of  fine  bindings  and  gems 
and  porcelain,  visible  only  to  the  children  of  privilege,  are 
but  a  few  of  the  evidences  of  a  good  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
populace.  This  populace  has  eyes  that  see,  ears  that  hear, 
and  an  instinct  which  demands  that  the  good  of  a  few  become 
the  possession  of  all.  Liberty,  suffrage,  and  social  respect 
have  widened  their  boundaries  in  modern  times.  Each  man 
thinks  the  best  things  are  coming  his  way.  The  hope  excites 
his  desire  and  makes  it  seem  more  reasonable. 

It  is  not  increasing  poverty  and  depressing  pauperism  and 
desperate  misery  which  incite  social  unrest  and  discontent, 
so  much  as  it  is  the  taste  of  better  means  of  living.  The  poor 
are  not  growing  poorer  but  richer,  as  we  have  proved,  and 
they  find  it  so  agreeable  that  they  naturally  wish  for  more 
nectar  of  the  same  kind.  Who  will  blame  them?  If  they 
sometimes  seem  to  desire  more  wages  simply  to  consume  it 
upon  coarse  pleasure,  they  have  only  too  many  examples  among 
those  who  have  succeeded  in  winning  the  financial  prizes.  It 
is  permitted  us  to  hope  that  the  uplifting  forces  of  education 
and  culture  will  awaken  higher  aspirations  and  desires  in  all 
classes. 

///.  The  Forms  of  the  Social  Movement,  —  In  order  to  have 
any  distinct  conception  of  this  vast  and  impressive  social  ten- 
dency, we  must  briefly  notice  the  various  combinations  which 
enter  into  it,  those  of  the  wage-earning  and  salaried  classes; 
those  initiated  by  employers  and  corporations  on  behalf  of 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     173 

their  employees;  those  formed  by  the  friendly  agreements  of 
managers  and  men;  those  sustained  by  the  community  at 
large;  and  the  Utopian  schemes  which  so  largely  influence 
both  theory  and  action  in  all  modern  lands;  and  practical  legal 
reforms.  It  will  not  be  possible  to  go  much  beyond  conditions 
as  they  exist  in  the  United  States,  nor  to  give  full  details  of 
organization  even  within  these  limits.  The  general  citizen 
does  not  require  to  know  all  about  the  technical  arrangements 
and  functions  of  these  organizations  unless  he  wishes  to  take 
direct  part  in  them;  but  he  does  need  to  understand  their  prin- 
ciples of  action,  their  motives,  and  their  programme.  Each 
of  these  subjects  has  its  own  literature. 

IV.  Organizations  of  Wage-earners  as  Members  of  the 
Productive  Force  of  Society  ;  the  Trade  Unions.  — These  socie- 
ties have  already  been  introduced  to  us  as  part  of  the  governing 
and  regulative  arrangements  of  industry.  But  they  constitute 
so  important  a  factor  in  the  social  movement,  in  the  wider 
sense,  and  they  have  such  a  powerful  influence  on  municipal 
and  other  political  institutions,  on  local  improvements,  on 
education,  and  on  the  division  of  the  product  of  industry 
among  citizens,  that  we  must  here  give  the  essential  elements 
of  their  structure  and  policies.  It  ought  to  be  remembered 
that  trade  unionism  labors  under  peculiar  difficulties  in  the 
United  States.  The  trade  union  is  an  institution  characteris- 
tic of  manufacturing  populations,  and  our  country  has  been 
accustomed  to  the  modes  of  thought  peculiar  to  a  population 
overwhelmingly  agricultural.  Our  traditions  belong  to  a  social 
state,  in  which  it  was  easily  possible  for  men  to  get  homes  of 
their  own,  and  to  become  owners  of  valuable  lands  simply  by 
cutting  down  the  trees  or  by  ploughing  the  prairies.  Much  of 
the  land  given  to  the  state  colleges  sold  for  ten  or  fifteen  cents 
per  acre.  Obviously  that  time  has  passed  away  from  this 
country  forever.  When  the  immigrant  seeks  a  place,  he  finds 
it  full.  "Poor  Pussy  wants  a  corner,"  but  each  corner  is 
occupied.  Those  who  came  first  wonder  why  the  later  immi- 
grants should  think  different  thoughts  or  seek  their  welfare  by 
different  means.  Thus  trade  unionism  is  misunderstood, 
because  it  is  an  adjustment  to  new  situations. 

Those  who  have  always  lived  among  the  employing  or  pro 


1^4  Social  Elements 


fessional  classes  have  a  difficulty  in  understanding  the  trade 
union,  because  they  are  likely  to  take  the  tone  of  feeling  pecul- 
iar to  employers.  Class  prejudice  blinds  us  all,  especially  if 
we  are  not  trying  to  understand  by  sympathy  and  by  investiga- 
tion at  first  hand. 

A  further  cause  of  misunderstanding  is  that  the  unions  have 
at  times  caused  or  tolerated  many  acts  of  lawlessness  and  crime 
or  of  gross  injustice.  In  our  cities  the  members  of  these 
bodies  have  come  together  from  many  nations.  They  do  not 
speak  the  same  language,  or  they  learn  to  speak  English  im- 
perfectly and  with  difficulty.  There  are  large  colonies  of 
persons  of  foreign  birth  who  never  learn  our  tongue,  and  who 
are  separated  by  race  barriers  from  each  other.  Therefore  the 
movement  is  not  yet  as  fully  under  discipline  as  it  has  come  to 
be  in  the  trades  of  old  England.  With  such  an  unorganized 
and  untrained  mass  to  deal  with,  it  is  natural  to  expect  occa- 
sional acts  of  violence,  though  they  are  fewer  and  rarer  than 
many  suppose. 

The  uncertain  state  of  labor  laws  in  this  country  promotes 
unrest  and  uncertainty  of  action.  In  a  new  state,  where  manu- 
factures are  just  becoming  important,  the  legislatures  and  the 
courts  have  no  experience  in  dealing  with  the  industrial  prob- 
lems, and  law  itself  has  not  yet  accurately  defined  the  duties 
and  the  responsibilities  of  employees  and  their  combinations. 

We  must  add  to  all  these  facts  another  which  is  not  credit- 
able to  us :  we  assume  that  the  wage-earners  know  the  law  even 
when  the  government  has  taken  no  pains  to  inform  them. 
Here  is  a  just  ground  for  a  grievance,  and  it  is  a  cause  of 
lawless  conduct.  The  workman  sometimes  never  knows  of  the 
existence  of  a  rule  of  the  legislature  until  a  policeman  strikes 
him.  It  is  natural  that  an  untaught  foreign  laborer  should 
come  to  think  of  the  government  simply  .as  a  mighty  force 
owned  and  controlled  by  the  master  of  the  shop.  Until  our 
educative  machinery  can  diffuse  a  general  knowledge  of  our 
law  and  of  the  beneficent  aids  of  government,  and  until  justice 
shall  be  gratuitous,  this  provocative  of  antagonism  will  rankle. 

The  trade  union  has  come  to  stay.  It  is  fixed  in  the  affec- 
tions of  wage-earners  in  all  Christian  lands;  it  is  established 
in  customs;  it  has  at  last  fought  its  way  to  legal  recognition; 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     175 


and  it  has  even  gained  a  place  in  the  plans,  if  not  the  affec- 
tions, of  the  great  employers  of  the  world.  Opposition  now 
is  chiefly  secret  and  indirect. 

What  our  modern  industrial  community  needs  is  a  just  and 
intelligent  estimate  of  the  social  value  and  place  of  the  trade 
union;  of  its  worth  and  possibilities  in  relation  to  universal 
welfare,  and  not  merely  as  viewed  by  workmen  and  by  em- 
ployers through  their  particular  class  interests  and  prejudices. 
A  frank  recognition  of  the  union,  a  cordial  sympathy  with  its 
fair  demands,  and  a  rigid  determination  to  hold  it  responsible 
to  the  law  of  the  common  good  are  much  to  be  desired.  A 
summary  statement  of  the  objects  and  methods  of  trade  unions 
will  assist  in  gaining  this  balanced  and  sober  estimate, 
although  important  considerations  must  be  omitted. 

Statistics  of  Trade  Unions.  —  The  relative  importance  of 
these  associations  can  be  partly  judged  from  the  numbers  of 
their  members.  There  were  in  the  United  Kingdom  about 
1,114,440  in  1894.  These  men  were  members  of  about  three 
principal  organizations.  In  the  United  States  the  figures  are 
less  reliable  and  the  numbers  seem  to  be  more  fluctuating.  In 
good  times,  when  hopes  of  success  rise,  the  numbers  are  larger, 
while  in  hard  times  it  is  more  difficult  to  keep  up  payment  of 
fees,  and  membership  declines.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
it  is  almost  impossible  for  farm  laborers  to  unite,  because  they 
are  so  widely  scattered  and  communication  between  them  is  so 
difficult.  In  other  cases,  the  wage-workers  are  afraid  to  join 
unions  because  their  employers  would  discharge  them  if  it 
were  discovered.  There  is  always  a  multitude  of  unskilled 
laborers  in  cities  who  are  too  ignorant  to  form  unions  or  who 
have  no  particular  trade  which  gives  them  common  bonds  of 
interest.  Thus  it  happens,  that  of  all  wage-workers  in  the 
country  only  a  minority  are  likely  to  be  organized  in  this  way. 
But  a  minority  organized  and  compact,  with  a  plain  theory 
and  a  practical  programme  of  action,  is  more  powerful  and 
influential  than  a  disorganized  multitude.  It  is  the  difference 
between  a  regular  army  and  a  crowd  of  rioters.  It  was  esti- 
mated, in  1896,  that  the  American  Federation  of  Labor  em- 
braced 80  national  labor  organizations,  about  7000  local 
bodies,  and  an  aggregate  membership  of  over  650,000.     The 


176  Social  Elements 


Knights  of   Labor  still   hold   many  organizations,   and   have 
reported  about  75,000  members. 

The  General  Objects  of  Trade  Unions.  —  Workingmen  do 
not  differ  in  any  essential  particular  from  other  citizens. 
They  naturally  and  properly  wish  to  secure  the  highest  pos- 
sible income  with  which  to  buy  the  comforts  of  life  for  them- 
selves and  their  families.  They  have  their  appetites  and  their 
ambitions,  their  affections  and  tastes.  They  desire  their  share 
of  the  product  of  industry  and  know  that  they  have  a  right  to 
it.  The  wage-earners  belong  to  all  grades  of  refinement  and 
intelligence;  some  of  them  resemble  certain  richer  neighbors 
in  having  coarse  and  low  ambitions  as  others  are  under  the 
influence  of  lofty  ideals.  They  share  with  the  communities, 
of  which  they  form  part,  in  the  gradual  elevation  of  nature 
which  comes  with  universal  education,  free  libraries,  and 
better  church  life. 

Trade  unions  have  for  their  primary  specific  object  the 
assurance  of  a  good  rate  of  wages,  the  highest  it  is  possible  to 
obtain.  Just  as  the  money-lender  seeks  the  highest  possible 
rate  of  interest,  on  good  security,  and  as  the  managers  seek 
the  highest  rate  of  profit,  and  as  the  professional  man  wishes 
to  obtain  the  highest  fees  or  salary  that  his  gifts  can  com- 
mand; so  wage-earners  naturally  strive  to  make  the  best  pos- 
sible bargain  in  selling  their  labor,  the  use  of  their  bodies  in 
the  productive  process.  If  they  do  not  take  care  of  them- 
selves, no  other  class  of  society  will  take  pains  to  care  for  their 
interests.  They  have  found  this  to  be  true;  and  trade  unions 
are  the  means  adopted  to  make  good  bargains.  Of  course 
they  know  that  if  they  ask  too  much  it  cannot  be  paid,  because 
employers  will  not  and  cannot  long  pay  wages  which  cause 
the  impairment  of  capital  and  certain  bankruptcy. 

It  is  a  universal  principle  with  the  unions  to  insist  on  a 
standard  rate  of  wages  below  which  they  shall  not  fall.  The 
employer  may  pay  more  than  this  minimum,  if  he  thinks  it  to 
his  interest  to  do  so,  in  order  to  keep  workers  of  superior  skill. 
There  is  no  general  opposition  to  unequal  payments  for  vary- 
ing services,  although  the  very  nature  of  machine  and  factory 
work  tends  to  uniformity  of  rate.  If  the  men  permit  the  rate 
to  fall  below  this  minimum,  they  are  threatened  with  "the 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     177 

adulteration  of  labor."  Law  does  not  permit  a  dealer  to  mix 
cheap  materials  with  Hour,  or  coffee,  or  sugar,  and  thus  lower 
the  quality  of  the  mass.  Why  should  society  permit  a  custom 
of  payment  which  tends  to  degrade  the  physical  and  moral 
quality  of  working  people? 

Another  vital  concern  of  working  people  is  the  length  of  the 
labor  day.  Every  minute  costs  energy  and  may  cause  pain. 
With  effort  life  flows  out  and  atoms  of  the  body  are  burned  up. 
The  manager,  having  expensive  machinery  and  materials,  is 
naturally  disposed  to  make  them  produce  as  many  hours  as  the 
men  are  willing  to  work.  His  bias  favors  long  hours  up  to 
the  limit  of  efficiency.  The  working  people  believe  that  if 
they  give  long  hours  it  will  not  only  disable  them  earlier  in 
life,  but  will  tend  to  lower  their  wages. 

Another  interest  of  wage-workers  is  security  of  health  and 
proper  appliances  to  protect  them  from  dangerous  machinery 
in  shops  and  on  railroads.  The  worker  not  only  agrees  in  the 
labor  contract  to  labor  so  many  hours,  but  he  also  submits  his 
body  to  all  the  perils  of  swift  and  dangerous  wheels  and  cogs 
and  bands.  Thousands  of  men  are  poisoned,  maimed,  or 
killed.  Combination  to  secure  the  introduction  of  fans, 
guards,  and  other  means  of  protection  is  demanded  by  the 
situation,  and  is  supported  by  humane  and  enlightened  public 
opinion.  Experience  shows  that  employers,  even  where  there 
is  a  law  making  them  liable  for  injuries,  are  disposed  to  insure 
themselves  with  some  company  rather  than  to  introduce  appli- 
ances which  cost  money,  far  more  than  insurance  premiums. 
The  unions  in  such  cases  are  compelled  to  go  to  legislatures 
for  help. 

Another  specific  object  of  trade  unions  is  to  avoid  the  tragic 
losses  attending  the  sudden  introduction  of  new  inventions. 
In  recent  years  the  unions  have  not  been  open  to  the  charge 
of  opposing  the  use  of  better  machinery.  Educated  mechanics 
have  discovered  a  better  way,  especially  where  trade  unionism 
has  had  a  long  trial  and  training.  The  unions  make  con- 
tracts with  the  employers  so  as  to  gain  for  themselves,  in 
shorter  hours  and  in  reasonable  wages,  their  share  of  the  new 
benefits.  Every  new  process  at  first  tends  to  enrich  the  em- 
ployer alone  and  to  give  him  extra  profits;  while  at  a  later 

N 


178  Social  Elements 

stage  the  general  community  receives  the  advantage  in  cheaper 
commodities.  Meantime,  the  skilled  workmen  find  that  they 
have  lost  a  trade  which  cost  them  years  to  learn.  Their  only 
capital  is  sunk  and  lost.  They  are  too  old  to  learn  a  new 
calling,  and  are  ousted  by  young  persons  who  easily  learn  to 
work  the  machines.  In  these  transitions  thousands  of  skilled 
men  suffer  as  martyrs  to  progress,  as  victims  of  a  change  which 
increases  the  wealth  of  society.  Reason  teaches  that  it  is 
their  right  and  duty  to  see  that  the  change  shall  not  be  their 
ruin.  Therefore  social  opinion  should  justify  them  in  sober 
and  orderly  attempts  to  protect  themselves  by  favorable  con- 
tracts. And  it  would  seem  only  justice  if  society  should,  in 
some  way,  make  good  their  loss  by  paying  them  some  kind 
of  indemnity  for  their  abandoned  capital  in  skill. 

One  of  the  most  severe  trials  of  the  workingman  is  the 
uncertainty  and  irregularity  of  employment.  He  may  at  any 
moment  be  thrust  out  of  the  opportunity  of  earning  his  living 
by  causes  absolutely  beyond  his  control.  The  discharge  falls 
like  lightning  out  of  the  clear  sky.  Frequently  this  uncer- 
tainty is  artificially  increased,  especially  in  the  lower  kinds  of 
occupations,  by  the  competition  of  a  reserve  army  of  men  who 
are  given  just  enough  work  to  keep  them  hanging  around 
"waiting  for  a  job."  This  mass  of  unskilled  and  incapable 
labor  is  the  curse  of  the  lower  grades  of  industry  in  cities. 
Trade  unions  take  measures  to  diminish  this  competition. 

The  Methods  of  the  Unions.  —  In  order  to  secure  better 
wages,  sanitary  surroundings  of  shops,  reasonable  hours  of 
service,  and  other  elements  of  welfare,  the  unions  must  have  a 
consistent  working  plan  of  action.  They  must  hold  together 
and  act  in  concert,  since  the  entire  value  of  combination  is 
lost,  and  the  individual  is  left  in  his  weakness  to  make  pitiful 
terms  with  society  alone,  unless  the  union  remains  intact. 

Benefit  Funds.  —  It  has  been  discovered  that  if  a  society  can 
collect  funds  in  small  amounts  during  time  of  steady  employ- 
ment, available  for  assistance  of  members  when  they  are  sick 
or  out  of  a  place,  that  these  funds  serve  to  hold  the  members 
together.  So  long  as  there  is  plenty  of  work,  those  who  mee* 
with  illness  or  are  disabled  by  accident  can  receive  aid  from 
the  common  treasury.     And  when  one  of  the  men  refuses  to 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     179 

work  for  a  wage  below  that  demanded  by  the  union  he  can  be 
supported  during  his  protest  in  order  that  he  may  not  be  forced 
by  starvation  to  accept  any  terms  that  are  offered  him  and  so 
become  a  competitor  of  his  comrades  and  help  to  break  down 
their  rate.  The  stronger  unions  annually  expend  vast  sums  of 
money  to  support  members  who  cannot  find  employment,  so 
that  they  really  furnish  insurance  against  non-employment,  one 
of  the  most  grievous  causes  of  suffering  in  the  modern  indus- 
trial world.  Kur  this  reason,  among  others,  the  members  of 
old  unions  seldom  appear  on  the  list  of  recipients  of  alms, 
and  trade  unionism  has  come  to  be  one  of  the  chief  bulwarks 
against  pauperism.  When  a  strike  becomes  necessary,  this 
same  fund  is  used  to  support  the  members  while  they  are  out 
of  work;  and  one  union  will  help  another,  which  seems  to  be 
making  a  just  and  reasonable  fight  for  better  terms.  As  mere 
insurance  societies,  to  provide  for  times  of  sickness  or  acci- 
dent, the  unions  are  not  so  good  as  mutual  benefit  organiza- 
tions; but  the  supreme  interest  of  workingmen  is  in  holding 
up  the  rate  of  income  on  which  all  else  depends.  The  pos- 
session of  common  stores  of  wealth  is  one  of  the  bonds  of  the 
association. 

Collective  Bargaining. — The  very  centre  of  unionism  is 
seen  in  their  mode  of  marketing  labor  and  service.  In  war- 
fare the  army  would  invite  defeat  if  it  should  send  one  soldier 
at  a  time  against  the  solid  front  of  the  enemy.  The  individual 
workman  has  nothing  to  offer  in  the  market  but  his  strength 
and  skill.  If  a  thousand  workmen  seek  a  place  as  competitors, 
the  manager  can  dictate  his  own  terms,  and  sad  experience 
has  shown  the  wage-earners  that  if  one  master  is  merciful,  he 
will  be  forced  by  his  rivals  to  drive  hard  bargains.  The 
alternative  of  this  divided  action  is  a  union  offer  of  labor 
through  representatives  chosen  by  the  entire  body.  This  has 
been  called  "collective  bargaining,"  and  it  is  a  method  dear 
to  the  great  multitude  of  wage-workers  all  over  the  civilized 
world.  It  is  tardily  coming  to  be  accepted  by  employers,  and 
the  refusal  to  treat  with  accredited  representatives  is  univer- 
sally regarded  as  a  deep  insult  and  an  attack  on  the  rights  of 
laboring  men.  The  delegate  speaks  for  all.  And  a  slight  put 
upon  him  rankles  for  years  in  the  hearts  of  the  men,  even 


i8o  Social  Elements 


though  circumstances  compel  them  to  conceal  their  sense  of 
wrong. 

Legislation.  —  Wage-workers  are  citizens  and  have  the  com- 
mon right  of  all  citizens  to  ask  for  the  protection  of  their  rights 
at  the  hands  of  government.  They  can  claim  even  more  than 
this,  since  government  functions  are  extended  to  render  ser- 
vice to  all  members  of  the  state,  wherever  the  common  welfare 
can  be  best  promoted  by  such  action.  Employers  may  be  re- 
quired to  keep  their  workshops  in  a  sanitary  condition;  may 
be  forbidden  to  employ  young  children  before  they  are  mature 
in  body  and  have  enjoyed  the  opportunity  of  elementary  educa- 
tion; may  forbid  the  employment  of  girls  and  women  at  hours 
and  places  where  they  are  exposed  to  insult  or  peril.  It  is  to 
the  interest  of  the  entire  community  that  the  home  shall  not 
be  broken  up;  that  women  shall  not  be  compelled  to  leave 
their  young  children  in  order  to  labor  in  public  factories.  In 
order  to  supply  the  country  with  healthy,  strong,  efficient,  and 
intelligent  workmen,  it  is  proper  to  employ  law  and  adminis- 
trative measures  to  do  anything  that  will  save  the  workers  from 
degradation  and  raise  the  standard  of  living. 

Legislation  is  of  three  types:  mere  protection,  enabling 
acts,  and  positive  public  service  of  benefit  to  all  citizens. 
An  example  of  protective  acts  is  the  law  which  requires  manu- 
facturers to  fence  dangerous  machinery  where  employees  are 
likely  to  be  caught  and  injured;  the  requirement  that  railroads 
shall  introduce  new  forms  of  couplers  to  save  railroad  men 
from  being  crushed ;  the  law  that  boys  shall  not  be  permitted 
to  manage  engines  and  boilers,  at  the  risk  of  injuring  them- 
selves and  their  companions. 

Examples  of  enabling  acts  are  those  laws  which  provide  that 
men  may  form  associations  for  their  common  benefit,  so  long 
as  they  do  not  violate  the  laws. 

Acts  relating  to  the  common  good,  in  which  all  classes  share, 
are  sanitary  measures,  boards  of  health,  free  schools,  and  pub- 
lic libraries. 

The  state  is  compelled  to  provide  officers  to  see  that  whole- 
some laws  are  enforced,  as  no  law  works  automatically.  Hence 
the  appointment  of  factory  inspectors,  who  have  the  legal  au- 
thority to  enter  shops  and  stores  and  report  for  prosecution  all 


The   Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     181 

managers  and  merchants  who  refuse  to  make  the  changes  and 
provisions  required  by  law. 

V.  An  Estimate  of  Trade  Unions.  —  Are  trade  unions  help- 
ful to  the  common  welfare,  or  are  they  merely  selfish  bodies? 
The  final  test  of  any  organization  must  be  its  effect  on  the 
general  welfare.  No  community  can  tolerate  an  association 
which  is  in  conflict  with  the  general  well-being,  nor  can  per- 
mit any  course  of  action  which  is  injurious  to  the  body  of  the 
people. 

If  it  can  be  shown  that  trade  unions,  on  the  whole,  are 
essential  to  the  furtherance  of  life  for  the  wage-earning  class, 
that  of  itself  is  a  large  item  in  the  common  good,  since  the 
workers  who  need  union  frequently  constitute  four-fifths  of  the 
population.  It  is  now  generally  conceded  by  economists,  by 
jurists,  and  by  employers  that  trade  unions  are  necessary  to 
the  interests  of  these  classes. 

In  the  next  place,  the  worst  abuses  of  unionism,  as  the  oppo- 
sition to  machinery,  the  attempt  to  prevent  young  persons  from 
learning  a  trade,  the  antagonism  to  passing  from  one  occupa- 
tion to  another,  and  lawless  violence,  tend,  with  more  thorough 
organization  and  improved  police  regulations,  to  disappear. 
At  any  rate,  flagrant  acts  of  lawlessness  do  not  belong  to  the 
unions  as  such,  but  are  abuses  to  be  corrected  by  public 
opinion  and  criminal  administration.  It  is  not  fair  to  judge 
the  board  of  trade  by  the  acts  of  gambling  members,  nor 
the  church  by  its  corrupt  limbs  who  disgrace  it,  nor  trade 
unions  by  the  occasional  lawlessness  of  a  minority  of  their 
members. 

It  is  very  often  declared  that  trade  unions  are  the  causes  of 
strikes.  But  strikes  have  always  occurred,  whether  there  were 
unions  or  not,  and  they  have  been  most  violent  and  destructive 
when  they  were  outlawed.  So  long  as  men  can  freely  organize 
themselves,  openly  and  legally,  and  thus  have  a  regular  disci- 
pline and  social  responsibility,  they  are  not  so  apt  to  break 
forth  in  acts  of  desperation.  The  wiser  and  steadier  heads 
gain  moral  influence,  and  the  laws  which  regulate  their  con- 
duct, made  by  themselves,  are  more  likely  to  be  observed 
under  temptation.  It  is  probable  that  strikes  thus  carefully 
planned  are  more  sure  of  success;   but  that  is  because  the 


1 82  Social  Elements 


employers  are  more  certain  to  be  able  to  meet  the  demands 
made  upon  them  by  cool  and  calculating  men. 

So  far  as  lawless  attacks  on  persons  and  property  are  con- 
cerned, these  are  no  part  of  trade-union  policy  or  law.  Such 
acts  are  provoked  among  unorganized  laborers  by  the  same 
causes,  and  they  are  simply  to  be  classed  and  treated  like  other 
crimes.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  unions  do  not  always  for- 
mally repudiate  such  inexcusable  deeds  as  assaults  and  inter- 
ference with  property  or  labor,  but  this  is  a  matter  which 
education  and  general  progress  in  culture  and  administration 
will  mend.  This  same  progress  in  finer  and  juster  sentiment 
will  also  make  organization  more  perfect  and  will  diminish 
the  number  of  those  secret  and  insidious  acts  of  employers 
which  excite  men  to  resentment. 

If  the  unions,  by  the  adoption  of  a  minimum  rate  of  wages, 
can  compel  managers  to  employ  none  but  the  more  efficient 
workers  and  to  introduce  the  most  effective  machinery  of  pro- 
duction, the  whole  community  has  the  benefit  of  the  advance. 
It  seems  to  be  evident  that  society  at  large  is  benefited  by 
having  the  process  of  production  in  the  best  hands,  and  by 
having  goods  made  with  the  best  tools.  There  is  a  common 
agreement  of  opinion  that  the  unions  do  compel  employers  to 
fill  their  factories  with  the  higher  grades  of  men  and  the  best 
of  appliances.  In  China,  where  wages  are  extremely  low, 
employers  will  not  use  machinery.  Wherever  human  beings 
are  willing  to  compete  with  brutes  and  mill-streams  in  cheap- 
ness, managers  will  not  devise  substitutes.  Trade  unions,  by 
raising  the  rate  of  wages,  drive  the  manufacturers  to  introduce 
the  most  recent  and  perfect  methods. 

Professor  Marshall  is  by  no  means  the  most  hopeful  advo- 
cate of  trade  unions,  but  has  given  a  cautious  statement1  of 
their  economic  value  on  the  whole  favorable. 

It  is  possible  to  raise  general  wages  if  the  necessary  con- 
ditions are  met:  if  they  assist  in  making  business  easy  and 
certain,  so  that  capital  is  encouraged  to  venture  on  enterprise 
and  is  assured  of  income  on  investments;  if  the  standard  of 
life  is  raised,  so  that  men  are  willing  to  work  steadily  and 
efficiently  in  order  to  maintain  the  standard  to  which  they 

1  Economics  of  Industry,  p.  408. 


TJie  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     183 

have  become  accustomed;  if  the  young  are  assisted  to  gain 
increasing  skill,  so  that  the  business  of  the  country  may  be 
enlarged  in  productivity;  if  business  and  technical  talent  is 
developed  and  the  cost  of  superintendence  is  lowered  by  a 
deeper  sense  of  honor  among  wage-earners;  and  if  conflicts 
are  avoided  and  life  is  permitted  to  move  on  without  serious 
break  and  loss.  In  trades  which  have  a  monopoly  the  workers 
may  secure  high  wages  at  the  expense  of  the  public,  the  in- 
creased cost  being  added  to  the  selling  price  of  wares.  In 
ordinary  trades  there  is  a  flexible  margin  between  the  lowest 
price  which  the  employer  would  like  to  make  and  the  highest 
possible  rate  which  he  can  afford;  the  combination  may  com- 
pel the  manager  to  come  nearer  the  possible  maximum.  If 
wages  are  demanded  beyond  the  power  of  the  employer  to  pay, 
the  trade  is  killed,  since  no  occupation  can  be  carried  on  at 
a  loss.  Trade  unions  cannot  force  the  rate  above  what  is  per- 
mitted by  the  economic  conditions  of  the  community  at  a 
given  time.  The  unions  have  a  high  value  if  they  train  up  a 
body  of  expert  advisers  who  become  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  actual  possibilities  of  each  trade,  and  inform  the  men 
when  it  is  possible  to  make  advances  of  rates  and  when  it  is 
necessary  to  reduce  wages.  Strikes  would  be  much  more  rare 
if  the  men  knew  nearly  what  the  employers  could  afford;  be- 
cause they  would  not  strike  for  something  impossible  to  grant, 
and  they  would  know  when  the  employer  would  be  willing  to 
increase  the  pay  in  order  to  avoid  friction  or  delay.  The 
beginnings  of  this  body  of  experts  representing  the  unions 
are  found  in  the  so-called  "walking  delegate,"  or  "business 
agent";  but  it  may  be  many  years  before  the  highest  type  of 
qualities  and  training  will  be  more  common. 

There  is  an  apparent  exception  to  the  beneficence  of  trade 
unionism :  the  weak  and  incapable  members  of  society,  who 
are  not  able  to  earn  the  wage  required  for  efficiency.  "Shall 
these  be  left  to  starve,  because  they  cannot  get  employment 
at  trade-union  rates?  "  This  question  is  often  put  with  the 
triumphant  air  of  certainty  that  it  settles  controversy.  It  must 
be  admitted  that  the  first  effect  of  enforcing  a  rate  of  wages 
which  will  support  the  average  family,  keep  them  in  health, 
and  give  them  decent  provisions  for  human  existence,  must 


184  Social  Elements 


be  to  cause  the  discharge  of  all  who  cannot  earn  this  rate  for 
the  employers.  Says  Mr.  Mulhall :  "  Whole  sections  of  the 
wage-earners  .  .  .  are  habitually  crushed  down  below  the  level 
of  physiological  efficiency."  At  least  8,000,000  of  the  popu- 
lation of  the  United  Kingdom  —  over  1,000,000  in  London 
alone  —  are  adult  males  who  earn  under  $5  a  week.  That 
means  starvation  or  partial  dependence  on  charity.  The 
proper  method  of  treating  this  social  residuum  must  be 
reserved  for  the  next  chapter. 

But  this  is  the  place  to  point  out  that  a  business  which 
cannot  pay  full  support  to  its  workers  must  be  partly  supported 
by  other  forms  of  business,  which  must  carry  the  underpaid 
employees.  Does  it  not  seem  certain  that  such  a  business  as 
that  is  unprofitable  to  society?  Is  it  prudent  for  a  community 
to  assist  in  carrying  on  a  business  which,  if  not  supported  by 
alms,  would  cease  to  exist? 

These  underpaid  persons  are  really  subsidized  by  society 
to  hang  about  the  necks  of  capable  workmen  and  make  the 
struggle  harder  for  them.  Thus  the  army  of  the  unemployed, 
of  paupers  and  of  criminals,  is  augmented  by  a  policy  which 
keeps  in  reserve  a  large  mob  of  incapables,  who  cannot  earn 
enough  to  support  themselves,  and  whose  competition  injures 
the  self-respecting  men  who  dread  dependence  as  a  scourge. 

VI.  Social  Peace  in  Industry ;  Modes  of  settling  Disputes 
between  Managers  and  Workmen.  — The  occasions  for  differ- 
ence of  opinion  between  directors  of  industry  and  wage- 
receivers  are  many  and  various.  But  they  may  all  be  brought 
under  two  general  heads :  those  which  refer  to  new  contracts 
about  wages,  hours,  and  other  conditions  of  employment, 
and  those  which  refer  to  interpretations  of  contracts  already 
existing. 

For  both  these  purposes  the  trade  unions  have  gradually 
built  up  a  method  of  negotiation  and  administration,  which 
is  demanded  by  the  very  nature  of  modern  factory  industry, 
where  very  large  numbers  of  employees  are  brought  under  one 
management,  and  where  it  is  entirely  impossible  for  the  super- 
intendents to  deal  with  individual  workmen  at  every  turn. 

Conciliation.  —  There  is  apparently  more  room  for  con- 
ciliatory methods  than  for  arbitration.     Up  to  this  time  no 


The   Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment      185 

clear  way  seems  open,  under  ordinary  conditions,  to  compel 
a  set  of  men  to  go  forward  with  an  employer  whom  they  dis- 
like to  serve.  On  the  other  side,  it  seems  impossible,  on  any 
wide  scale,  to  compel  employers  to  keep  their  works  running 
on  terms  which  they  believe  mean  impairment  of  capital,  or 
even  loss  of  profits.  Arbitration  seems  to  mean  that  one  of 
the  parties  must  yield  something  that  he  asserts  is  necessary 
to  a  fair  wage  or  a  fair  profit.  Arbitration,  which  is  simply 
a  "splitting  of  the  difference,"  and  comes  about  to  the  average 
of  extreme  terms  possible  for  both  sides  to  accept,  may  be 
practicable;  but  even  then  arbitration  does  not  mean  that  the 
parties  have  reasoned  their  way  to  a  true  agreement.  They 
have  simply  asked  an  umpire  to  decide  for  them  a  dispute 
which  they  confess  they  cannot  settle  among  themselves.  If 
an  agreement  can  be  reached  whose  reasons  have  all  been 
explained  and  argued  out,  such  an  understanding  has  far  more 
moral  worth  than  an  arbitrary  decree  passed  by  an  outsider. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  most  satisfactory  instances  of  arbi- 
tration have  been  those  in  which  the  umpire  did  not  really  act 
as  umpire,  but  as  a  friend  whose  character  was  respected  by 
all,  and  who  had  the  tact  to  help  both  disputants  reach  a  milder 
temper  and  a  clearer  insight  into  the  merits  of  the  case. 

"  A  peace  is  of  the  nature  of  a  conquest; 
For  then  both  parties  nobly  are  subdued, 

And  neither  party  loser."  —  Part  II,  King  Henry  IV. 

The  very  general  disturbances  accompanying  strikes  of  coal 
miners,  gas  workers,  and  especially  railroad  unions,  have  so 
annoyed  and  injured  the  general  community  that  men  have 
been  eagerly  asking  if  the  government  should  not  provide 
machinery  for  compelling  both  parties  to  go  on  with  work  and 
settle  their  differences  before  duly  authorized  courts.  The 
chief  difficulty  has  been  that  the  corporations  have  property, 
and  their  responsibility  can  be  enforced,  while  trade  unions 
are  not  bodies  which  can  be  sued,  and  the  individual  workmen 
are  too  poor  to  pay  fines  for  breach  of  contract.  It  would 
seem  that  a  body  of  men  driven  by  force  to  labor  for  a  com- 
pany against  their  own  sense  of  right  would  be  little  better 
than  slaves.     Thus  compulsory  arbitration  has  been  rejected 


1 86  •     Social  Elements 


by  both  sides.  Experiments  are  being  tried  in  New  Zealand 
and  other  British  colonies  which  will  be  watched  by  the  civil- 
ized world ;  for  these  recent  Acts  of  the  legislatures  contain 
the  principle  of  legal  settlement  of  trade  disputes  before  courts. 
Similar  laws  by  our  Congress  and  State  legislatures  give 
promise  of  relief.  Until  the  principle  has  had  longer  and 
more  extended  trial  we  must  suspend  judgment,  and  await  the 
result  of  the  conciliation  to  which  employers  and  wage-earners 
may  appeal  for  help  in  hearing  and  deciding  disputes.  Much 
depends  on  the  fairness,  impartiality,  and  ability  of  these 
bodies.  In  France  and  Germany,  courts  are  established  for 
the  purpose  of  securing  amicable  adjustments,  and  in  the  last 
resort  the  settlement  of  points  in  litigation  without  costly  and 
tedious  process.  But  these  courts  do  not  have  anything  to 
do  with  making  rates  of  wages;  they  go  no  further  than  the 
interpretation  and  enforcement  of  existing  contracts.  Out 
of  all  these  experiments  the  industrial  world  may  find  the  best 
way.  Something  may  be  hoped  from  the  universal  growth  of 
education,  for  intelligence  enables  men  to  deliberate,  hear  all 
sides  with  patience,  and  form  reasonable  judgments. 

The  final  settlement  of  economic  strife  will  not  come  by 
merely  repressive  measures,  but  by  increase  of  intelligence 
and  virtue  — both  intelligence  and  virtue.  Good  impulses 
without  knowledge  leave  men  helpless  before  astute  robbers; 
while  intelligence  without  increase  of  regard  for  social  right 
is  merely  a  tool  for  selfishness  to  employ  with  greater  power 
to  harm.  Jefferson  said  that  to  keep  a  standing  army  merely 
to  keep  down  riots  was  "setting  up  a  hawk  to  keep  the  hen- 
house in  order."  He  thought  that  we  have  no  serious  need 
to  fear  the  effects  of  liberty  if  we  use  the  means  of  culture. 
"  Let  them  take  arms.  The  remedy  is  to  set  them  right  as  to 
facts,  pardon  and  pacify  them.  What  signify  a  few  lives  lost 
in  a  century  or  two?  The  tree  of  liberty  must  be  refreshed, 
from  time  to  time,  with  blood  of  patriots  and  tyrants.  It  is 
its  natural  manure."1  Somewhat  extravagant  in  expression, 
but  sound  in  its  reliance  on  moral  means  as  opposed  to 
depending  entirely  on  force.  Justice  and  instruction  are 
more  powerful  to  sustain  social  peace  than  hireling  armies, 

1  T.  Jefferson,  Works,  II,  p.  265. 


The  Social  Movement  fat  Economical  Betterment     187 

VII.  Profit  Sharing.  —  Many  social  students  have  looked 
earnestly  toward  some  form  of  profit  sharing  as  a  means  of 
softening  the  asperities  of  the  relation  between  employers  and 
employees.  It  is  desirable  that  our  definition  should  be 
made  precise  and  accurate,  because  various  writers  seem 
to  be  arguing  for  or  against  very  different  propositions  in 
discussing  what  they  suppose  is  meant  by  the  words.  Mr. 
D.  F.  Schloss1  thus  states  the  meaning:  "A  predetermined 
proportion  of  profits,  divided  between  employees  as  partial 
remuneration  of  labor  in  predetermined  shares."  He  claims 
that  this  method  should  be  carefully  distinguished  from  other 
schemes  which  are  often  discussed  under  the  same  title,  as: 
dividends  on  stock  owned  by  laborers;  extra  wages;  premiums 
on  efficiency,  irrespective  of  profits;  provident  funds;  bonus- 
giving,  or  a  distribution  among  employees  of  an  indeterminate 
part  of  profits. 

Theoretical  writers  have  very  generally  recommended  this 
plan,  and  they  have  urged  very  plausible  reasons.  They  have 
said,  that  if  the  workmen  knew  that  they  were  to  have  a  defi- 
nite share  of  the  profits  they  would  work  harder  to  produce  as 
much  as  possible,  would  drive  the  machinery  to  its  full  ca- 
pacity, would  seek  to  avoid  all  waste  of  material  and  unneces- 
sary wear  and  tear  of  machinery.  They  have  noted  the  fact 
that  when  a  man's  wages  are  fixed  he  has  no  further  direct 
interest  in  the  business  than  to  keep  his  place,  come  up  to  the 
minimum  demands  of  his  contract,  quit  as  soon  as  the  bell 
rings,  and  have  no  particular  concern  about  the  use  of  mate- 
rials and  tools.  The  wage-earner  must  often  be  kept  up  to 
his  task  by  hired  drivers  or  superintendents,  whose  salaries  are 
a  large  part  of  the  cost  of  production.  If  men  worked  all  the 
year  under  the  stimulus  of  hope  that  they  might  share  the 
profits,  this  motive  would  make  them  better  workmen,  more 
careful  and  industrious,  requiring  less  superintendence. 

To  this  statement  many  have  added  a  rather  questionable 
argument,  that  workmen  whose  interests  are  thus  made  identi- 
cal with  those  of  the  employer  will  be  less  devoted  to  their 
fellows  and  take  the  side  of  the  manager. 

It  is  also  urged  in  favor  of   profit   sharing   that  it  tends  to 

1  D.  F.  Schloss,  Methods  of  Industrial  Remuneration,  1892. 


1 88  Social  Elements 


secure  more  steady  workmen,  longer  service  in  one  place, 
because  men  will  not  like  to  leave  a  situation  where  certain 
gain  awaits  them  if  they  are  loyal  to  the  master  of  the  estab- 
lishment. 

To  these  arguments,  which  appeal  to  personal  interest,  the 
philanthropists  add  other  considerations.  They  claim  that  if 
employers  would  divide  profits  with  the  workmen  there  would 
no  longer  be  a  horizontal  but  a  vertical  cleavage;  that  both 
parties  would  tend  to  become  joined  in  interest.  All  must 
admit  that  if  this  union  of  sentiment  could  be  cultivated  it 
would  be  socially  desirable,  if  it  does  not  increase  the  patron- 
izing airs  of  employers  and  the  servile,  cringing  attitude  of 
workmen. 

While  many  of  the  ablest  economists  and  other  theoretical 
writers  have  been  advocating  this  plan  for  many  years,  it  must 
be  confessed  that  experience  has  offered  comparatively  few 
instances  of  success;  there  have  been  many  sad  failures;  and 
the  majority  of  practical  men,  both  managers  and  trade  union- 
ists, are  either  indifferent  or  hostile.  This,  in  few  words,  is 
the  present  situation.  It  cannot  be  said  that  the  movement 
is  a  failure,  for  it  may  have  progressed  as  rapidly  as  it  was 
reasonable  to  expect  a  novel  enterprise  to  do.  There  are  a 
few  resolute,  practical  men,  of  noble  purpose  and  fine  ability, 
who  are  giving  the  experiment  a  fair  and  honest  trial;  and 
such  men  seem  to  be  able  to  secure  the  very  kind  of  results 
which  economists  and  philanthropists  unite  in  declaring  to  be 
desirable.  Good  and  shrewd  men  are  able  to  succeed  with 
almost  any  reasonable  plan,  while  the  best  method  fails  in  the 
hands  of  one  who  is  incompetent,  harsh,  and  dishonest. 
While  the  scheme  is  still  in  the  experimental  stage,  not  even 
specialists  in  economics  can  speak  with  dogmatic  certainty  as 
to  the  issue. 

Why  do  the  practical  managers  of  industry  object  to  the 
profit-sharing  scheme?  They  say  that  they  are  already  paying 
the  workmen  market  wages  according  to  agreement;  that  the 
men  get  these  wages  whether  there  proves  to  be  any  profit  or 
not;  that  to  offer  more  wages  would  be  to  confess  that  em- 
ployers are  not  already  dealing  justly;  that  it  is  unfair  to  ask 
capitalists  to  divide  profits  in  good  years  unless  the  workmen 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     189 

are  willing  to  share  losses  in  bad  years.  Perhaps  they  are  also 
influenced  very  much  by  the  fact  that  the  declaration  of  a 
dividend  of  profits  involves  more  publication  of  the  state  of 
their  finances  than  they  like  to  give  to  their  competitors  and 
to  the  world.  They  think  that  a  failure  to  give  a  dividend 
would  produce  as  much  dissatisfaction  as  the  payments  had 
evoked  gratitude;  that  the  custom  of  paying  a  certain  share 
would  soon  come  to  be  regarded  as  simply  justice,  as  a  custom 
quickly  hardens  into  law.  For  these  and  for  other  reasons 
the  managers  of  business  have  generally  held  aloof  from  this 
scheme.  "Business  is  business,"  they  say,  and  it  is  not  wise 
to  mix  accounts  of  charity  and  philanthropy  with  those  of 
profits  or  loss.  They  think  that  the  relations  of  employer  and 
employee  should  be  simply  those  of  any  honest  and  fair-minded 
dealers  in  commodities;  and  that  the  cultivation  of  friendly 
sentiments  can  go  on  without  obstruction  under  this  arrange- 
ment, not  only  in  the  shop  but  also  in  other  associations  of 
life. 

If  we  turn  to  the  trade  unions,  who  are  the  parties  most  di- 
rectly interested  in  any  such  scheme,  we  find  them  at  least 
very  generally  suspicious  or  openly  hostile.  Profit  sharing 
has  now  been  tried  in  England  for  a  generation,  and  the 
unions  have  had  an  opportunity  of  observing  its  working. 
Rightly  or  wrongly  they  seem  generally  agreed  in  disliking  it. 
If  this  seems  strange  to  us,  we  shall  come  nearer  their  point 
of  view  by  considering  their  argument. 

They  tell  the  philanthropist  and  theorist  that  they  dare  not 
and  will  not  give  up  their  union,  and  will  not  do  anything  to 
imperil  its  existence  and  lessen  its  power.  Experience  has 
taught  them  that  private  interest  will  not  protect  public  inter- 
est, and  that  if  they  get  their  own  rights  they  must  be  com- 
bined to  maintain  them.  They  see  in  profit  sharing  a  trick 
of  employers  to  break  up  their  union  and  separate  them  from 
their  natural  allies.  To  them  the  chief  concern  is  the  rate  of 
wages,  and  next  to  this,  assurance  that  the  length  of  the  day 
shall  not  be  increased.  The  bonus  offered  seldom  amounts 
to  very  much  as  compared  with  the  reductions  of  wages  which 
they  suffer  if  the  union  is  not  always  presenting  a  united  front 
all  over  the  country.     They  are  afraid  of  "bribe  participa- 


190  Social  Elements 


tion."  The  little  gain  is  uncertain,  and  the  loss  is  great  and 
certain.  Many  of  them  will  say  that  the  manager  has  the 
accounts  in  his  own  hand;  how  do  they  know  that  he  gives 
them  the  share  of  profits  which  has  been  promised?  They 
want  nothing  to  do  with  a  bargain  in  the  dark.  And  what  if 
they  do  toil  harder  to  make  the  winnings  larger,  if  at  last  loss 
comes  by  no  fault  of  their  own,  as  come  it  often  does  by  some 
error  of  the  employer? 

Perhaps  some  of  the  workmen  will  add  that  they  cannot  wait 
for  the  introduction  of  a  scheme  which  depends  on  the  charity 
or  generosity  of  the  employers;  that  the  waiting  is  likely  to  be 
very  long  and  tedious,  and  the  issue  uncertain;  that  they  pre- 
fer to  depend  on  themselves  and  on  an  organization  in  which 
they  have  a  voice  and  a  vote. 

Many  of  the  economic  writers  also  take  up  the  criticism  of 
this  method  of  industrial  remuneration.  To  the  arguments 
of  the  trade  unionists  they  add  some  of  their  own  from  an 
outside  standpoint.  Since  profits  depend  chiefly  on  the  quali- 
ties and  conduct  of  the  employer,  and  not  so  much  on  the 
workmen,  the  hopes  of  the  latter  are  built  of  unknowable  ele- 
ments and  share  the  nature  of  gambling.  This  leads  to  bad 
morality,  since  the  habit  of  relying  on  any  event  not  due  to 
their  own  conduct  educates  men  to  look  for  gifts  of  fortune 
rather  than  for  fruits  of  personal  skill  and  fidelity.  They  point 
to  the  fact  that  profit  sharing  cannot  be  enforced  at  law,  as 
wage-paying  can  be,  and  that  the  legal  status  of  the  scheme  is 
all  in  the  air. 

If  the  advantage  of  the  manager  is  sought,  this  can  be  se- 
cured in  a  better  way,  as  by  piece  wage,  progressive  wage,  or 
collective  progressive  wage.  What  most  stimulates  a  workman 
is  not  some  remote  and  uncertain  share  of  an  uncertain  prod- 
uct, but  the  immediate  and  certain  guarantee  of  a  definite 
reward  for  an  increased  product  or  diminished  waste.  The 
payment  of  bonus  on  output  is  more  logical  than  bonus  con- 
tingent on  profit.  By  progressive  wages  is  meant  a  fixed  or 
minimum  wage  supplemented  by  a  premium  paid  in  respect 
of  efficiency. 

Employers  —  Power  and  Duty.  — Aside  from  profit  sharing 
the  generous  employer  always  has  it  in  his  power  to  improve 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     191 

the  conditions  of  those  who  sell  him  their  time  and  energy, 
who  yoke  themselves  under  a  wage  contract  to  his  establish- 
ment of  industry.  There  is  a  vast  difference  between  man- 
agers in  this  respect. 

The  first  concern  of  the  wage-earner  is  to  receive  more 
wages:  he  cares  more  for  that  than  for  anything  else,  and 
thinks  of  it  before  all.  Every  employer  who  raises  the  wages 
in  his  factory  aids  the  movement  for  betterment  everywhere. 
The  best  men  flock  to  him,  and  the  example  of  his  fairness  is 
used  as  a  lever  in  other  houses  far  away. 

Next  to  rise  of  wages  the  workmen  desire  shorter  hours,  and 
any  employer  who  can  give  the  same  wages  for  less  time  is 
assisting  the  labor  movement  at  a  vital  point.  If  the  profits 
of  business  will  permit  any  advance,  it  will  be  more  appreci- 
ated in  these  two  directions  than  elsewhere. 

The  more  intelligent  workmen  appreciate  good  sanitary 
conditions  in  the  shops,  and  some  of  them  feel  the  difference 
between  aesthetic  and  ugly  surroundings.  In  this  respect  we 
discover  that  employers  differ  widely,  and  the  very  fact  of  this 
difference  seems  to  show  that  the  slower  leaders  are  not  doing 
all  that  lies  in  their  power.  It  is  probable  that  those  who  are 
able  to  offer  better  physical  conditions  can  do  so  because  they 
are  more  competent  captains,  and  that  they  secure  better  ser- 
vice in  return  for  the  increased  expenditure.  Self-interest 
and  philanthropy  are  not  to  be  distinguished  in  effects,  if 
both  are  really  intelligent.  Financial  ability  and  the  willing- 
ness to  make  better  terms  for  the  workmen,  are  two  marks  of 
the  most  worthy  directors  of  large  enterprises. 

Even  where  factory  laws  give  minute  directions  about  sani- 
tation and  guarding  of  dangerous  machinery,  the  character  of 
the  manager  will  come  out  in  the  more  or  less  honest  way  in 
which  he  enforces  the  law.  Some  employers  have  voluntarily 
done  more  for  the  physical  and  moral  welfare  of  their  em- 
ployees than  others  can  be  brought  to  do  even  with  the  severest 
pressure  from  inspectors  appointed  by  the  state. 

Personal  Treatment  of  Workingmen  by  Superintendents.  — 
A  practical  man,  acquainted  with  the  feelings  and  ways  of 
workingmen,  thus  lets  in  light  upon  the  personal  relations  of 
managers  and  employees :  — 


192  Social  Elements 


"No  system  of  management,  however  good,  should  be  applied  in  a 
wooden  way.  The  proper  personal  relations  should  always  be  maintained 
between  the  employers  and  the  men;  and  even  the  prejudices  of  the  work- 
men should  be  considered  in  dealing  with  them. 

"  The  employer  who  goes  through  his  works  with  kid  gloves  on,  and  is 
never  known  to  dirty  his  hands  or  clothes,  and  who  either  talks  to  his  men 
in  a  condescending  or  patronizing  way,  or  else  not  at  all,  has  no  chance 
whatever  of  ascertaining  their  real  thoughts  or  feelings. 

"  Above  all,  it  is  desirable  that  men  should  be  talked  to  on  their  own  level 
by  those  who  are  over  them.  Each  man  should  be  encouraged  to  discuss 
any  trouble  which  he  may  have,  either  in  the  works  or  outside,  with  those 
over  him.  Men  would  far  rather  even  be  blamed  by  their  bosses,  especially 
if  the  "tearing  out "  has  a  touch  of  human  nature  and  feeling  in  it,  than  to 
be  passed  by  day  after  day  without  a  word  and  with  no  more  notice  than  if 
they  were  part  of  the  machinery. 

"  It  is  not  the  large  charities  (however  generous  they  may  be)  that  are 
needed  or  appreciated  by  workmen,  such  as  the  founding  of  libraries  and 
starting  of  workingmen's  clubs,  so  much  as  small  acts  of  personal  kindness 
and  sympathy,  which  establish  a  bond  of  friendly  feeling  between  them  and 
their  employers."  1 

Of  course  these  remarks  cannot  apply  in  those  cases  where 
the  managers  of  the  first  rank  are  far  removed  from  the  opera- 
tives, as  are  the  presidents  and  directors  of  railroad  corpora- 
tions and  other  huge  modern  enterprises.  Even  here,  the 
immediate  managers  and  superintendents  should  be  chosen 
with  reference  to  those  human  qualities  which  smooth  diffi- 
culties and  remove  causes  of  social  distrust  and  hatred. 
Courtesy  and  fairness  are  due  to  all  men,  without  regard  to 
industrial  rank,  and  the  superintendent  who  lacks  urbanity, 
friendliness,  and  politeness  fails  so  far  of  doing  his  duty  to 
the  stockholders  and  to  the  community. 

VIII.  Cooperation.  —  None  of  the  schemes  hitherto  noticed 
touch  the  level  of  the  aspirations  of  workingmen.  They 
desire  to  have  a  share  in  the  control  of  affairs,  and  not  merely 
to  be  the  passive  recipients  of  favors  which  depend  on  the 
chances  of  finding  benevolent  capitalists.  Furthermore,  many 
thousands  of  working  people  wish  to  mingle  sociability  with 
business,  as  in  the  numerous  friendly  or  mutual  benefit  lodges 
which  offer  insurance  to  their  members. 

Cooperation    in    Partnership   Form. — At    various    periods 

1  F.  W.  Taylor,  Economic  Studies,  p.  126. 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     193 

during  this  century,  in  all  modern  countries,  groups  of  men 
have  combined  to  market  their  own  labor  by  investing  their 
little  capitals  and  joining  their  efforts  in  production.  It  is  a 
long  story  of  moderate  and  occasional  successes  with  many 
dismal  and  pitiful  failures.  Usually,  these  associations  have 
either  broken  in  pieces,  or  have  dwindled  into  mere  joint 
stock  partnerships,  or  have  been  carried  to  prosperity  by  a 
few  of  the  more  able  members  who  soon  took  control  and 
profit  to  themselves.  It  does  not  seem  possible  to  make  much 
out  of  this  plan,  because  it  has  no  principle  to  distinguish  it 
from  any  other  capitalistic  enterprise,  and  therefore  has 
nothing  socially  new  or  large  to  offer.  In  the  type  of  coop- 
eration under  consideration  the  members  are  looking  out  for 
their  own  interests,  without  having  any  community  of  interest 
or  sharing  of  advantages  with  their  neighbors. 

Cooperative  Shopkeeping.  — The  famous  Rochdale  Pioneers, 
of  England,  have  worked  out  a  method  of  cooperation  which 
has  achieved  larger  results,  and  has  a  wider  scope  and  more 
certain  future.  This  scheme  of  cooperation  began  with  a  few 
shillings  of  money  in  a  very  small  store.  The  men  who  de- 
veloped the  method  gradually  invented  and  proved  the  follow- 
ing principles :  that  cooperation,  in  order  to  succeed,  must 
invite  to  share  its  advantages  all  persons  in  the  town  who  have 
any  liking  for  the  scheme  and  wish  to  benefit  by  it;  that  every 
purchaser  must  pay  cash;  that  market  rates  must  be  main- 
tained, in  order  to  avoid  giving  unnecessary  offence  to  small 
shopkeepers;  that  all  customers  at  the  end  of  the  year  shall 
receive  a  rebate  according  to  the  amount  of  goods  purchased 
by  each  as  registered  in  the  books.  Various  minor  modifica- 
tions of  these  rules  may  be  made,  but  these  are  central,  and 
mark  the  highest  success  wherever  they  have  been  strictly 
carried  out. 

It  was  found  that  goods  might  be  transported  by  the  coop- 
erative shops  for  themselves,  and  thus  the  associations  devel- 
oped contracts  with  steamships  and  railroad  companies  or 
established  their  own  means  of  carrying  and  became  owners  of 
ships. 

They  also  discovered  that  the  associations  could  save  much 
in  purchase  by  joining  their  accounts,  and  thus  they  came  to 
o 


194  Social  Elements 


found  wholesale  branches  for  the  purchase  of  stocks  directly 
from  manufacturers  and  in  large  quantities.  Here  again  they 
saved  for  the  customers. 

In  the  course  of  further  experience  they  found  it  to  their 
advantage  to  grind  their  own  flour  and  manufacture  other  kinds 
of  goods  sold;  and  thus  the  cooperators  became  managers  of 
factories  and  mills,  and  accumulated  great  funds  and  posses- 
sions. All  this  has  been  managed  by  salaried  superintendents 
and  other  persons  paid  wages,  as  in  the  case  or  ordinary 
merchants  and  manufacturers.  The  whole  purchasing  com- 
munity are  the  real  owners,  and  not  the  small  circle  of  man- 
agers and  workmen  who  carry  on  the  business.  The  humble 
mechanics  of  England  have  thus  produced,  in  these  associa- 
tions, a  most  democratic  form  of  business  in  the  very  heart  of 
a  great  capitalistic  world. 

The  Limitations  of  Cooperation.  —  From  these  successes 
many  have  fondly  hoped  that  all  business  would  gradually  come 
under  the  sway  of  the  people  and  be  free  from  the  hated  rule 
of  the  capitalists.  It  looks  so  logical  and  democratic.  But 
logic  is  not  master  in  the  complexity  of  human  affairs.  From 
all  that  has  yet  been  accomplished  we  see  no  tendency  to  drive 
the  great  industry  out  of  such  enterprises  as  shipbuilding, 
railroad  construction  and  management,  and  other  vast  schemes 
which  require  the  highest  order  of  commercial  genius.  The 
groups  of  modest  cooperatots  would  not  be  willing  to  pay  the 
salaries  which  corporations  are  quite  willing  to  pay,  because 
only  high  salaries,  or  hope  of  large  income,  will  command  the 
best  talent.  These  larger  enterprises  must  at  least  be  started 
and  organized  by  men  who  are  not  merely  hired  by  others,  but 
are  masters  of  the  situations  which  would  appal  ordinary  wage- 
earners  or  professional  men. 

Credit  Societies.  —  The  most  popular  form  of  credit  associa- 
tion in  the  United  States  is  that  called,  generally,  the  Building 
and  Loan  Association.  There  are  two  kinds  of  business  con- 
ducted under  this  name:  the  joint  stock  companies,  carried  on 
for  the  profit  of  directors  and  money  lenders,  and  the  genuine 
associations  conducted  for  mutual  benefit.  These  methods 
are  entirely  different  in  principle  and  should  be  carefully  dis- 
tinguished by  name  and  legal  position.     It  has  been  found  that 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     195 

associations  doing  business  over  a  large  area  must  be  brought 
under  specially  rigid  state  laws  and  inspection,  in  order  to 
prevent  designing  men  from  enriching  themselves  at  the  cost 
of  the  investors  or  borrowers. 

Raiffeisen  or  Popular  Banks.  — In  order  to  provide  capital 
for  persons  of  small  means,  capable  and  honest,  an  admirable 
plan  has  become  quite  general  in  various  countries  of  Europe, 
which  seems  well  adapted  to  gardeners  and  farmers  of  limited 
opportunities  in  this  country.  It  is  called  by  the  name  of  the 
founder,  the  Raiffeisen  bank,  or  the  popular  bank.  It  is  often 
started  by  philanthropic  persons  who  wish  to  help  honest  cul- 
tivators to  escape  from  usurious  money  lenders.  A  few  hun- 
dreds of  dollars  are  placed  in  a  fund  and  lent  at  low  rates, 
without  other  security  than  the  personal  liability  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  association.  These  members  agree  to  make  good 
all  losses,  and  they  thus  secure  capital  at  very  low  interest. 
Under  this  plan  almost  nothing  has  ever  been  lost.  But  mani- 
festly it  would  not  work  on  a  large  scale  nor  among  dishonest 
partners.  It  is  a  plan  adapted  to  a  rural  community  or  village 
where  the  character  of  each  member  is  thoroughly  known  to 
his  neighbors. 

Fraternal  Insurance  Societies.  — The  spectres  which  haunt 
the  poor  man  are  dread  of  sickness,  accident,  and  death  of  the 
bread-winner  in  the  home.  Where  people  must  live  close  to 
the  margin  of  their  earnings  it  is  impossible  to  accumulate 
property  to  provide  for  such  emergencies.  The  little  store  of 
the  savings  bank  is  soon  exhausted,  and  credit  is  strained  to  the 
point  of  breaking.  Working  people  of  all  modern  lands  are 
looking  about  them  for  some  way  by  which  they  can  provide 
for  the  rainy  and  stormy  day,  and  yet  not  use  up  the  fund  re- 
quired for  reasonable  support.  Savings  made  at  the  expense 
of  health,  or  even  of  education,  are  not  economic. 

The  method  of  Industrial  Insurance  has  grown  to  vast  pro- 
portions. Side  by  side  with  this  private  and  capitalistic  insti- 
tution has  grown  up  the  voluntary  society  called  the  lodge  or 
benevolent  society,  or  the  fraternal  insurance  association. 
There  are  many  of  these  bodies  in  this  country  as  in  Great 
Britain.  They  are  of  various  kinds  and  of  different  degrees  of 
merit.     Experience  in  England  and  in  this  country  has  shown 


196  Social  Elements 


that  voluntary  associations  cannot  be  trusted  to  carry  on  life 
insurance  business  without  state  supervision.  Sometimes  a 
society  is  started  by  a  dishonest  company,  whose  object  is  to 
steal  the  income  of  the  members.  More  frequently  such  an 
association  is  founded  by  honest  persons  who  are  totally  igno- 
rant of  actuarial  science  and  art  and,  therefore,  mislead  those 
who  join  them.  These  societies  offer  to  carry  policies  of  life 
insurance  at  rates  so  much  below  those  offered  by  regular  com- 
panies that  they  secure  many  members.  So  long  as  these 
members  are  young  and  numerous  all  seems  to  go  well,  and  the 
occasional  death  losses  are  easily  and  promptly  paid.  But  in 
a  few  years  the  older  members  begin  to  die,  the  losses  are 
more  frequent,  and  there  is  a  panic  flight  from  membership. 
Then  comes  collapse.  Many  high  authorities  believe  that 
these  associations  can  be  made  useful  if  they  are  subject  to 
careful  inspection  and  regulation  by  competent  state  boards 
of  administration.  Others  consider  them  essentially  unsound. 
State  regulation  alone  can  ever  give  them  a  reliable  basis. 

Men  are  so  constituted  that  they  like  to  act  in  company. 
Animals  may  eat  alone,  but  civilized  people  enjoy  food  best 
at  table  with  others,  where  jest  and  story,  wit  and  cheer,  make 
the  viands  sweet  and  plain  fare  appetizing.  Sympathy  and 
fellowship  are  as  necessary  as  insurance.  Societies  have 
honors,  marks  of  distinction  and  appreciation,  offices,  places 
for  display  of  abilities;  and  these  are  elements  of  benevolent 
societies  which  make  strong  appeal  to  many.  The  capitalistic 
joint  stock  companies  cannot  offer  these  advantages.  Nor  can 
they  supply  nursing  in  sickness,  the  friendly  attention  in  dis- 
tress, the  fraternal  features  of  the  assembly,  and  the  countless 
little  services  which  members  of  an  association  render  to  each 
other.  Men  who  look  at  the  matter  simply  as  mathematicians 
and  actuaries  can  never  undersand  the  secret  of  the  growth  of 
fraternal  insurance  societies  in  spite  of  many  failures  of  cer- 
tain forms  of  them.  If  a  plan  can  be  devised  by  which  the 
exact  capitalistic  management  can  be  combined  with  the  feel- 
ing of  sociability  and  mutual  assistance,  the  better  method 
would  be  welcomed.  These  associations  are  likely  to  exist  for 
a  long  time,  perhaps  permanently,  and  those  who  are  busy 
with  the  cares  of  life  cannot   inform  themselves   as   to  the 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     197 

real  financial  basis  of  the  societies  which  solicit  their  mem- 
bership. 

Those  who  think  that  people  should  be  permitted  to  suffer 
from  their  ignorance  without  interference  of  government, 
ignore  the  fact  that  the  individual  citizen  is  not  able  to  protect 
himself,  and  that  preventive  justice  is  the  highest  form  of  jus- 
tice. It  is  far  better  to  avoid  cruel  losses,  which  come  from 
the  blunders  of  a  vicious  plan,  than  to  correct  them  when 
thousands  have  been  led  blindly  into  a  pit. 

IX.  Cooperation  of  the  Community ;  Consumers''  Leagues. — 
It  is  highly  desirable  that  the  public  should  study  the  economic 
doctrine  of  consumption  as  taught  in  recent  discussions.  We 
have  long  been  attentive  to  the  teaching  of  economics  relating 
to  the  production  of  wealth,  exchange,  and  distribution.  But 
of  late  years  very  able  men  have  devoted  special  attention  to 
the  direction  of  the  uses  of  wealth.  The  buyer  of  goods  does 
not  directly  create  wealth.  Using  goods  is  not  by  any  means 
equivalent  to  making  them.  A  very  serious  fallacy  lies  in  such 
a  paragraph  as  this:  "Near  my  house  the  other  day  there  was 
a  barn  on  fire.  When  I  found  that  it  was  well  insured  I  did 
not  weep.  Somebody  out  of  a  job  will  get  a  few  days'  work 
and  wages.  Fire  is  one  remedy  for  over-production  of  barns. 
The  shop  one  of  my  sons  worked  in  burned  down.  The  result 
will  be  a  new  shop  and  machinery  up-to-date."  It  is  a  pity 
good  men  should  say  such  wild  things.  This  talk  is  literally 
incendiary.  It  makes  arson  a  virtue.  If  people  really  be- 
lieved it,  we  should  have  conflagrations  every  night.  Common 
sense  and  the  conspiracy  of  policemen  and  firemen  quell  any 
attempts  to  carry  such  economic  fallacies  into  practice. 

No  less  foolish  and  contrary  to  sound  economic  doctrine  is 
the  saying  that  "the  vices  of  the  rich  are  the  hope  of  the 
poor."  Extravagance  in  the  wealthy  works  misery  rather  than 
benefit  to  wage-workers. 

What  the  buyer  and  consumer  do  is  to  direct  the  course 
of  production.  The  consumers  have  no  more  to  offer  than  a 
fixed  quantity  of  goods  which  they  have  produced  for  exchange. 
Buying  does  not  increase  this  stock,  but  it  indicates  to  mer- 
chants and  manufacturers  what  the  public  desires  done  with 
machinery  and  labor.     If  men  buy  meat  and  gems  with  their 


198  Social  Elements 


wages,  they  cannot  purchase  lace  and  pianos  with  the  same 
money. 

Mr.  John  Graham  Brooks  has  made  a  noble  and  sensible 
plea  for  Consumers'  Leagues,  from  which  some  illustrations 
are  taken  to  enforce  the  points  suggested.  He  quotes  from 
the  Forest  and  Stream  a  sound  and  pathetic  passage,  good 
both  in  economics  and  morality :  — 

"  You  observed  that  hat  of  the  lady  who  walked  in  front  of  you  down 
the  fashionable  part  of  the  main  street  the  other  day.  .  .  .  You  have  not 
noticed,  perhaps,  that  on  my  lady's  hat  are  some  tall,  pliant  plumes,  long 
as  those  of  the  ostrich,  but  far  more  beautiful,  with  delicate  filaments  as 
light  as  frost  work  on  a  winter  window.  These  long,  filmy  plumes  on  my 
lady's  hat  are  the  plumes  of  the  white  egret.  Naturally  they  are  pure  white, 
.  .  .  but  pure  white  not  being  barbaric  enough  for  the  use  of  civilization  — 
though  it  used  to  serve  Southern  Indians  who  wore  these  plumes  —  they 
are  dyed  any  color  of  the  rainbow,  losing  thereby  none  of  their  gracefulness 
and  only  some  of  their  beauty.  My  lady's  hat,  if  worn  too  long,  will  lose 
its  purpose  and  cease  to  attract.  She  must  therefore  change  it.  The  plumes 
of  the  new  hat  must  be  of  different  color.  For  these  new  plumes  she  looks 
to  her  milliner.  The  milliner  looks  to  the  great  wholesale  supply  house  of 
the  metropolis.  The  wholesale  supply  house  looks  —  and  with  much  anxi- 
ety these  days  —  to  Thomas  Jones,  market  shooter,  or,  technically  speaking, 
plumage  hunter. 

"  Every  egret  killed  for  its  plumes  is  killed  when  it  is  helpless  through  its 
blind,  natural  love  for  its  offspring,  and  when  its  death  means  the  death  of 
all  its  helpless  young.  Does  the  wholesale  man  know  this?  Does  he  care? 
Does  anybody  know  or  care?  Is  it  not  the  one  thing  to  be  remembered, 
that  my  lady  must  have  her  plumes?  .  .  .  White  .  .  .  they  are  white, 
these  plumes.  It  is  mockery.  They  should  be  the  blackest  sable,  and  they 
should  stain  black  the  white  fingers  that  caress  them." 

Too  few  reflect  that  the  cheap  goods  they  wear  frequently 
come  from  "sweaters'  dens."  Clothing  made  in  small  rooms 
at  home,  where  the  family  is  crowded  into  uncomfortable  and 
ill-ventilated  quarters,  may  be  sold  at  the  stores  where  fashion- 
able people  are  customers.  The  wholesale  manufacturers  give 
out  the  cloth  ready  to  sew  together;  the  poor  men  and  women 
come  for  their  work  over  long  distance  with  baskets  or  little 
hand-carts,  and  trudge  in  summer  heat  or  winter  cold  to  their 
close  rooms,  where  they  toil  long  hours  into  the  night  for  a 
miserable  wage.  When  the  children  are  sick  with  diphtheria 
or  scarlet  fever  the  work  must  go  right  on,  for  life  depends 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     199 

on  the  daily  wage.  The  fact  is  concealed  from  the  health 
officials,  if  possible,  so  that  the  source  of  income,  meagre  as 
it  is,  may  not  be  cut  off.  In  this  way  the  dealer  is  saved  the 
cost  of  providing  a  large  and  comfortable  room  for  his  work- 
men, and  the  cost  of  rent  falls  on  those  whose  residences  are 
already  too  small  for  sound  human  life. 

Against  such  conditions  go  up  such  pitiful  and  indignant 
protests  as  these  resolutions,  passed  in  an  assembly  of  journey- 
men tailors  in  a  great  city:  "We  .  .  .  unite  in  asking  the 
merchant  tailors  ...  to  fit  up  upon  premises  where  their  goods 
are  sold,  or  other  suitable  shop  premises,  work-rooms  in  which 
we  may  make  up  these  goods;  that  we  will  no  longer  pay  rent 
for  our  employers,  but  for  ourselves  and  our  families  only; 
that  we  will  no  longer  be  parties  to  the  deceit  of  the  customers 
of  the  merchant  tailors,  but  from  this  time  on  we  will  declare 
to  them  and  to  the  world  that  the  home  shop  is  insanitary, 
unnecessary,  and  those  merchant  tailors  should  no  longer  be 
patronized  who,  to  increase  their  own  profits,  oppress  us  and 
deceive  their  customers."  Here  is  a  cry  out  of  the  heart  of 
sweated  men,  who  discover  to  us  that  we  have,  as  consumers, 
a  direct  interest  with  the  producers. 

It  is  true  that  many  employers  already  provide  good  shops, 
and  that  many  workmen  prefer  to  take  the  material  home. 
But  in  the  interest  of  the  community  the  small  domestic  shop 
must  be  closely  inspected  and  its  work  gradually  transferred 
to  modernized  rooms  adapted  to  the  purpose. 

What  can  we  do?  —  Many  people  are  ready  to  admit  the 
responsibility  of  the  buyer  in  relation  to  the  producer,  and 
yet  are  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do.  They  feel,  as  individuals, 
so  helpless.  It  surely  will  not  effect  any  reform  to  ask  the 
employer  or  salesman  if  the  offered  garment  comes  from  a 
sweater's  den;  the  response  is  sure  to  give  no  information. 
Mr.  Brooks  quotes  a  cutting  and  sarcastic  passage  from  the 
New  York  Evening  Post:  "What  is  a  lady  who  goes  to  the 
bargain  counter  and  buys  cheap  things  to  do  in  order  to  help 
the  sewing  girl  and  save  her  own  soul?  Is  she  to  refrain  from 
buying?  Ought  she  to  go  to  a  dearer  shop?  Shall  she  say 
to  the  shopkeeper:  'I  want  to  pay  double  price  for  all  that  I 
buy,  on  condition  that  you  will  pay  double  wages  to  all  your 


200  Social  Elements 


work  people  '  ?  We  insist  that  when  a  man  who  has  acquired 
the  character  of  a  public  teacher  denounces  people  for  a  cer- 
tain thing  (more  especially  if  it  is  what  everybody  is  doing), 
he  should  show  them  how  they  ought  to  mend  their  ways." 
The  point  is  well  made,  and  the  responsibility  for  offering  a 
practical  method  of  help  may  be  accepted. 

The  trade  unions  have  already  acted  for  a  long  time  on  a 
principle  which  rests  on  the  moral  responsibility  of  the  pur- 
chaser for  conditions  of  workers.  The  unions  investigate  the 
treatment  given  by  a  certain  manufacturer  to  his  employees, 
and  finding  that  he  pays  standard  rates  of  wages,  that  he  is 
just  and  fair  in  respect  to  hours  and  other  conditions,  they 
offer  him  a  certain  mark  for  his  goods, —  the  union  label. 
That  label  is  a  sign  to  the  buyer  that  the  goods  have  been 
made  in  shops  that  reach  a  decent  level  of  humanity.  Doubt- 
less the  label  has  been  abused,  but  it  is  an  illustration  of  a 
right  principle,  and  it  is  fairly  effective.  With  the  education 
and  the  organization  of  wage-earners  it  will  become  still  more 
powerful. 

The  organization  of  Consumers'  Leagues  offers  to  the  general 
public  an  opportunity  to  assist  the  unions  in  exacting  a  humane 
treatment  of  producers  from  manufacturers  and  merchants. 
They  have  this  advantage  over  trade  unions,  that  they  are  free 
from  the  suspicion  of  having  personal  ends  to  serve.  They 
stand  for  the  consumers'  welfare. 

A  Consumers'  League  may  be  a  special  society  formed  for 
the  purpose,  or  a  charity  organization,  a  woman's  club,  a  civic 
"federation,  or  any  collegiate  association  willing  to  stand  by 
the  work,  to  supply  necessary  funds,  and  sustain  efficient  com- 
mittees. 

The  Investigating  Committee  must  be  composed  of  honest, 
cautious,  impartial,  and  intelligent  persons,  who  will  not  rest 
until  they  discover  the  essential  facts,  and  will  not  publish  a 
single  line  unless  they  have  the  highest  degree  of  moral  evi- 
dence. 

The  League  will  publish  and  circulate  from  time  to  time, 
and  especially  before  the  Christmas  holidays,  a  "white  list," 
containing  the  names  of  firms  which  give  assurance  and  proof 
that  they  are  not  only  conforming  to  the  factory  and  shop  laws 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment    201 


of  the  state,  but  are  introducing  humane  treatment  of  their 
employees  beyond  the  mere  demand  of  the  law. 

The  Investigating  Committee  will  not  stop  at  the  mere  shop 
rules  and  treatment,  but  will  pursue  their  investigations  to  the 
plaees  where  the  goods  are  made,  and  will  learn  whether  the 
workers  are  living  under  conditions  which  are  consistent  with 
health  for  themselves  and  the  purchasers  of  their  products. 

The  League  will  use  all  possible  means  of  persuading  the 
public  to  patronize  those  firms  and  to  ask  for  those  goods 
which  they  know  have  in  them  no  taint  of  inhumanity.  They 
will  carry  on  a  steady  and  patient  campaign  of  education  on 
the  duties  of  consumers.  They  will  show  that  commodities 
may  be  made  cheaply  by  good  machinery,  and  yet  under  con- 
ditions favorable  to  the  life  of  the  workers.  They  will  make 
the  "white  list"  plead  for  kindness  to  birds  and  cattle,  for 
women  and  children  and  men.  They  will  continue  this  policy 
of  favoring  the  firms  who  sell  the  right  goods  and  deal  up- 
rightly with  the  wage-workers,  until  it  will  become  impossible 
to  market  garments  made  in  insanitary  dens  and  food  prepared 
in  places  full  of  poisonous  air  and  foul  with  dirt. 

X.  Utopias. — By  Utopias  is  meant  forms  of  industrial 
organization  or  of  general  social  organizations  which  are  at 
present  unrealizable  and  exist  merely  in  the  imagination, 
hopes,  and  faith  of  men.  One  of  the  chief  Utopias  of  our 
time  is  Socialism.  It  is  said  that  "Socialism  is  in  the  air." 
True.  There  is  no  socialistic  state  anywhere  on  earth.  There 
may  never  be  one.  But  there  are  multitudes  of  intelligent, 
earnest  people  who  strongly  believe  that  there  ought  to  be  and 
will  be  such  a  society.  This  belief  itself  is  a  potent  social 
fact,  influential,  creative,  energetic,  and  one  which  seeks  to 
realize  itself  in  revolution  or  in  slow  and  gradual  steps  of 
change.  It  is  desirable  that  we  should  understand  this  move- 
ment and  the  grounds  which  many  men  have  for  expecting 
that  their  dream  will  come  true. 

The  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  in  the  discovery  of  a 
widespread  social  misery  is  to  charge  it  upon  the  "present 
system."  It  is  not  difficult  to  find  material  for  a  most  pathetic 
picture  of  human  sorrow,  poverty,  wretchedness.  One  does 
not  have  to  travel  far  to  meet  the  decrepit,  the  aged,  the  sick, 


202  Social  Elements 


the  beggar,  the  criminal,  the  tramp,  and  even  the  honest  and 
industrious  man  whose  children  besiege  him  in  vain  for  food. 
One  must  be  blind  and  deaf,  must  be  callous  of  heart,  must 
refuse  to  be  human,  must  close  his  soul  against  pity,  not  to 
know  and  have  compassion  for  the  myriads  of  people  who  are 
having  a  hard  time.  Injustice  is  frequent  enough.  One  could 
easily  fill  books  with  stories  of  colossal  theft,  of  rank  cruelty, 
of  flagrant  wrong  in  places  high  and  low.  The  socialist  finds 
these  facts  and  charges  them  to  our  industrial  system.  The 
individualist  finds  them  and  charges  them  to  the  prevalence 
of  socialistic  theory  and  legislation.  The  Republican  news- 
papers find  plenty  of  rascality  in  the  Democratic  camp,  and 
the  Democratic  journals  relate  very  damaging  accounts  of 
Republican  defects.  Preachers  in  pulpits  are  exposing  sins, 
and  judges  are  trying  crimes,  while  only  too  many  escape 
unwhipped  of  both.  Injustice  is  here,  and  it  causes  much 
misery.  And  error  is  here.  "Man  errs  so  long  as  he  strives." 
Capitalists  make  mistakes.  They  cannot,  with  all  their  mas- 
terful qualities,  command  the  secrets  of  the  future.  Their 
errors  often  bankrupt  themselves,  and  as  frequently  carry  down 
in  the  ruins  many  an  innocent  workingman.  In  all  this  wise 
world  no  genius  has  risen  to  show  us  how  in  times  of  depres- 
sion we  can  get  willing  workers  and  waiting  capital  into  active 
partnership.  At  an  hour  when  children  are  shivering  for  coal 
and  women  cry  for  bread,  the  merchants  or  manufacturers  com- 
plain of  "over-production,"  and  the  mills  are  shut  down. 
Some  awful  error  is  here,  some  blunder  of  judgment,  which 
has  all  the  consequences  of  crime.  But  no  oracle  speaks  the 
saving  word. 

No  man  doubts  the  facts  on  which  these  severe  indictments 
of  our  civilization  are  based.  The  facts  exist.  It  is  natural 
to  charge  them  to  the  system  in  which  our  industry  is  organ- 
ized. That  system  is  before  all  eyes.  It  is  the  "party  in 
power."  It  is  something  tangible  to  strike.  But  a  natural 
impulse  may  be  false.  It  seems  to  be  so  here.  It  may  be 
that  our  industrial  system  is  to  be  credited  for  preventing 
many  evils  and  introducing  many  benefits.  It  may  be  that 
the  evils  which  are  so  easy  to  find  are  no  essential  part  of  the 
system,  but  arise  from  abuses  in  its  working.      It  may  be  that 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     203 

the  errors  are  inevitable,  because  man  is  not  infallible.  It 
may  be  that,  under  any  system  possible  to  devise,  surrender 
to  vicious  appetite  must  bring  misery,  and  that  selfishness 
cannot  be  turned  out  by  changing  the  form  of  government. 
Perhaps  we  are  expecting  more  of  physical  nature  than  it  can 
give.  It  is  worth  while  asking  whether  for  some  goods  we 
must  not  wait  until  time  and  education  and  culture  have  pre- 
pared us  to  win  them  and  use  them  wisely. 

Socialists  tell  us  that  we  are  moving  toward  their  form  of 
government.  If  we  are  moving  in  that  direction,  it  does  not 
prove  that  it  is  the  right  direction.  Whole  nations  have  made 
mistakes  and  been  compelled  to  turn  back  or  turn  aside.  It 
does  not  follow  that  because  some  industries  can  be  socialized, 
that  all  industry  can  thus  be  made  subject  to  general  regu- 
lation. Artistic  goods,  apparently,  can  never  be  made  by 
wholesale  and  machinery. 

It  is  impossible  to  do  justice  to  the  arguments  of  socialists, 
or  to  the  considerations  against  their  theory,  in  a  few  pages 
or  chapters.  More  profitable  is  the  attempt  to  meet  the  truth 
in  their  indictment  by  seeking  immediately  practicable  meas- 
ures for  correcting  the  abuses  of  the  present  order  and  bring- 
ing out  of  it  increasing  good.  In  this  way  socialism  will 
gradually  come  into  being,  if  it  is  best  adapted  to  the  condi- 
tions, with  the  least  distress  of  change.  If  we  must  live  under 
the  same  essential  system  which  we  now  sustain,  it  will  be 
more  tolerable.  In  any  event,  it  is  our  duty  to  make  the  best 
of  what  we  have. 

XL  "Practicable  Socialism."  —  Under  the  discussion  of 
the  functions  of  government  we  shall  study  some  of  the  ways 
in  which  the  community  has  chosen  to  use  its  legal  machinery 
to  promote  common  ends,  in  which  all  classes  share.  In  this 
place  we  may  set  down  some  of  the  more  direct  methods  of 
government  for  protecting  and  helping  the  wage-earners. 

Health.  — The  physical  condition  and  vigor  of  the  workmen 
is  the  interest  of  society.  The  army  of  war  and  the  army  of 
labor  are  composed  of  the  same  persons,  and  it  is  a  national 
concern  that  they  should  be  strong  and  sound.  All  modern 
nations  have  adopted  the  principle  of  law  that  the  fundamental 
interest  of  health  shall  be  the  tare  of  law  and  administration. 


204  Social  Elements 


Mines,  factories,  shops,  are  gradually  being  brought  under 
these  regulations,  and  as  fast  as  sanitary  science  makes  new 
demands,  legislation  is  sure  to  follow  and  enforce  them.  It 
is  useless  to  say  that  the  American  citizen  is  a  free  man,  and 
that  if  he  chooses  to  work  or  sleep  in  foul  air  it  is  his  heaven- 
born  right  to  do  as  he  pleases.  That  theory  has  had  its  trial 
and  its  judgment.  It  meant  a  feeble  and  decaying  race.  The 
word  "freedom  "  is  a  mockery  under  the  circumstances  of  city 
and  factory  life,  where  each  man  is  subject  to  the  conditions 
around  him  and  utterly  powerless  to  improve  them  by  his 
individual  act.  The  most  direct  and  effective  method  of 
securing  the  public  health  is  to  appoint  public  officers  to  see 
that  suitable  conditions  are  maintained.  On  this  point  the 
report  of  Justice  Brown's  decision  expresses  the  modern  con- 
viction and  spirit  of  legislation,  and  it  marks  a  great  advance. 
He  said  that,  while  he  would  not  pass  upon  the  constitution- 
ality of  an  eight-hour  law  in  general,  he  would  decide  that  any 
measure  passed  by  a  state  as  necessary  for  health  and  morals 
would  be  upheld  as  constitutional;  and  if  working  in  hot, 
damp  places  more  than  eight  hours  injured  health,  it  was  legal 
to  limit  the  time  to  eight  hours. 

The  trade  unions,  as  we  have  already  seen,  appeal  to  legis- 
lation for  protection  of  health,  for  regulation  of  the  work  of 
women  and  children,  for  enabling  legislation,  and  for  legal 
inspection  and  supervision.  Such  legislation  is  called  for  by 
enlightened  public  opinion  in  all  civilized  lands,  and  is  not 
a  mere  device  of  trade  unions.  It  is  but  natural  that  those 
who  suffer  should  be  the  first  to  cry  out  and  awaken  the  con- 
science and  human  sympathy  of  their  fellow-citizens.  Very 
likely  many  "  labor  laws  "  are  passed  by  demagogues  eager  for 
votes;  but  this  is  only  the  superficial  aspect.  Labor  laws  are 
made  in  response  to  the  intelligent  demands  of  industrial 
communities.  Mistakes  have  been  made,  and  will  be  made; 
industry  will  sometimes  be  retarded  and  enterprise  dis- 
couraged; capitalists  will  be  wronged,  and  the  wrong  will 
react  injuriously  on  all  classes  of  the  people;  but  those  mis- 
takes are  incident  to  all  legislation.  We  cannot  go  backward 
to  the  old  policy  of  neglect.  Our  wisest  course  is  to  move 
carefully  forward  "from  precedent  to  precedent."     Life  and 


The  Social  Movement  for  Economical  Betterment     205 

limb,  health  and  character,  must  be  the  object  of  the  legis- 
lator's jealous  care  and  assiduous  attention. 

Of  those  measures  which  affect  the  dependent  members  of 
society  we  can  speak  better  at  a  later  point;  as,  for  example, 
of  the  system  of  public  relief,  or  poor  law.  The  institutions 
of  education,  whose  blessings  all  enjoy,  will  be  given  a  posi- 
tion of  honorable  mention.  Free  libraries  and  reading-rooms, 
parks,  municipal  music,  recreation  grounds,  are  not  the  peculiar 
advantages  of  wage-earners,  but  the  common  wealth  of  all 
citizens. 

The  care  of  dwellings,  sanitation,  clean  streets  by  cities 
and  by  state  boards  of  health,  is  not  a  class  interest,  although 
such  protection  is  most  of  all  required  by  those  who  are  obliged 
to  occupy  rented  rooms  and  houses,  over  which  they  have  no 
control,  and  in  which  they  may  be  exposed  to  unwholesome 
conditions. 

Compulsory  insurance  is  hardly  yet  within  the  range  of 
practical  politics  in  the  United  States.  The  German  Empire 
has  in  recent  years  developed  a  system  of  accident,  sickness, 
and  old-age  insurance  which  commands  the  attention  of  all 
governments,  but  it  has  not  stood  long  enough  to  reveal  all 
its  possibilities.  In  England  several  plans  of  pensions  for 
the  aged  poor  have  been  seriously  proposed  and  publicly  de- 
bated. At  present  the  question  has  merely  theoretical  interest 
in  the  United  States.  Many  of  us  believe  that  the  soldiers  of 
labor  are  entitled  to  a  pension  in  helpless  old  age,  if  they  have 
never  received  alms  and  have  supported  themselves,  on  the 
same  principle  on  which  pensions  are  paid  (not  "given")  to 
soldiers  of  war.  As  a  matter  of  fact  we  do  pension  all  help- 
less, penniless,  and  friendless  old  people, —  in  the  country 
almshouse.  But  that  cannot  be  considered  a  satisfactory  treat- 
ment for  aged  persons  whose  constant  industry  has  helped  to 
enrich  the  nation,  and  who  have  fallen  victims  to  extreme 
poverty  in  their  last  days.  Why  should  there  not  be  a  separa- 
tion between  the  industrious  and  the  vagabond  aged  poor? 
Why  should  both  be  supported  alike,  forced  into  the  same 
company,  although  their  previous  histories  have  been  widely 
different?  The  plan  of  paying  a  pension  to  the  aged  poor, 
who  have  supported  themselves  up   to   the  sixtieth  year,   is 


2o6  Social  Elements 


surely  worth  considering.  It  would  cost  the  nation  no  more 
than  the  present  plan;  it  would  offer  a  premium  for  industry 
and  thrift;  and  it  would  separate  the  merely  unfortunate  from 
the  vicious  and  criminal.  Any  such  scheme,  however,  must 
be  so  devised  as  to  offer  inducements  for  self-reliance,  thrift, 
and  industry;  and  none  of  the  plans  hitherto  tried  in  Germany, 
or  proposed  elsewhere,  is  quite  free  from  objections  on  this 
score.  Premiums  for  negligence,  for  easy  reliance  on  govern- 
ment, and  for  self-indulgence  in  present  satisfactions  must  have 
a  tendency  to  sap  the  vitality  and  moral  energy  of  the  race. 

The  Shorter  Work  Day. — While  trade-union  action  and 
the  example  of  progressive  employers  have  assisted  the  move- 
ment for  shortening  the  hours  of  toil,  the  advance  has  not  been 
gained  without  help  of  law.  In  England  the  law  which  pro- 
hibited excessive  hours  for  women  and  children  helped  adult 
men,  since  the  machinery  of  certain  factories  could  not  run 
eight  or  nine  hours  for  one  class  of  workers  and  eleven  or 
twelve  for  others.  But  legislation  must  move  slowly  and  be 
firmly  supported  by  public  opinion.  If  the  shortening  of 
hours  is  not  accompanied  by  higher  speed  and  more  perfect 
processes,  the  country  will  be  poorer,  and  real  wages  will 
suffer.  Here,  again,  we  see  that  improvement  for  the  more 
capable  may  turn  the  slower  workers  out  of  employment  alto- 
gether, or  compel  them  to  form  a  class  apart  at  reduced  income. 

The  methods  of  improvement  discussed  in  this  chapter  do 
not  exhaust  the  list;  they  are  simply  illustrations  of  the  vast 
range  of  social  inventions  devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  wage- 
earners.  They  reveal  the  progress  of  social  sympathy,  of  the 
power  of  organization,  and  of  hope  of  amelioration.  It  is 
nothing  against  these  partial  measures  that  they  have  not 
abolished  poverty  and  banished  misery.  Swift  machinery, 
competing  employers,  and  trade  unions  agree  in  being  selective 
of  the  capable.  They  leave  multitudes  in  the  morass  of  deep 
poverty,  hopeless,  unambitious,  apathetic.  Polite  society 
thinks  of  these  as  the  "unworthy,"  "incompetent,"  "unfit," 
but  we  do  not  thus  get  rid  of  those  we  call  such  hard  names. 
We  shall  next  turn  to  see  if  social  invention  is  doing  anything 
for  those  who  are  crushed  under  the  chariot  wheels  of  prog- 
ress. 


CHAPTER   X 

Social  Misery,  Pauperism,  and  Crime 

(A  chapter  to  be  passed  over  by  those  who  have  no  pity.) 

"The  world  .  .  .  look  round  .  .  . 
The  world,  we're  come  too  late,  is  swollen  hard 
With  perished  generations  and  their  sins : 
The  civilizer's  spade  grinds  horribly 
On  dead  men's  hones  and  cannot  turn  up  soil 
That's  otherwise  than  fetid.     All  success 
Troves  partial  failure:   all  advance  implies 
What's  left  behind;   all  triumph,  something  crushed 
At  the  chariot-wheels;   all  government,  some  wrong. 
Who, 

Being  man,  Aurora,  can  stand  calmly  by, 
And  view  these  things,  and  never  tease  his  soul 
For  some  great  cure?     No  physic  for  this  grief, 
In  all  the  earth  and  heavens  too?  " 

—  E.  B.  Browning,  Aurora  Leigh. 

"  Will  Fortune  never  come  with  both  hands  full, 
But  write  her  fair  words  still  in  foulest  letters? 
She  either  gives  a  stomach,  and  no  food  : 
Such  are  the  poor,  in  health;   or  else  a  feast, _ 
And  takes  away  the  stomach  :  such  are  the  rich 
That  have  abundance  but  enjoy  it  not." 

—  King  Henry  IV,  IV,  iii. 

"To  despise 
The  barren  optimistic  sophistries 
Of  comfortable  moles,  whom  what  they  do 
Teaches  the  limit  of  the  just  and  true, 
(And  for  such  doing  they  require  not  eyes;) 

"  If  sadness  at  the  long  heart-wasting  show 
Wherein  earth's  great  ones  are  disquieted; 
If  thoughts,  not  idle,  while  before  me  flow 

"  The  armies  of  the  homeless  and  unfed  — 
If  these  are  yours,  if  this  is  what  you  are, 
Then  am  I  yours,  and  what  you  feel,  I  share." 
—  MATTHEW  ARNOLD,  To  a  Republican  Friend^  1848. 

207 


208  Social  Elements 


"  The  toad  beneath  the  harrow  knows 
Exactly  where  each  tooth-point  goes; 
The  butterfly  upon  the  road 
Preaches  contentment  to  that  toad." 

—  Rudyard  Kipling. 

The  aim  of  this  chapter  will  be  to  show  the  outline  of  the 
social  system  of  relief  and  correction.  Into  the  technical 
questions  of  method,  the  plan  of  this  book  forbids  us  to  enter 
further  than  to  employ  illustrations  of  principles.  The  admin- 
istrators of  institutions  for  the  blind,  the  insane,  the  feeble- 
minded, have  developed  a  literature  and  body  of  regulations 
for  each  special  class  of  institutions.  The  social  student  seeks 
to  know  first  of  all  the  end  which  is  to  be  met,  the  nature  and 
extent  of  the  need,  and  the  proper  location  of  responsibility. 
Beyond  that  point  only  special  students  of  particular  phases 
of  relief  or  correction  are  called  to  inquire. 

/.  The  Conditio  ft  of  the  "Residuum  "  or  Lowest  Classes.  — 
Sir  Robert  Giffen 1  has  made  a  summary  statement  of  the  con- 
dition of  several  classes  which,  in  general  terms,  may  apply  to 
all  modern  countries,  although  it  is  probable  that  the  situa- 
tion is  better  in  America  than  in  Europe :  — 

"The  impression  left  by  the  evidence  as  a  whole  is  that  among  the 
more  settled  and  stable  population  of  skilled  work  people  there  has,  during 
the  last  half  century,  been  considerable  and  continuous  progress  in  the 
general  improvement  of  the  conditions  of  life,  side  by  side  with  the  estab- 
lishment of  strong  trade  customs  adapted  to  the  modern  system  and  scale 
of  industry.  Experience  may  fairly  be  said  to  have  shown  that  this  part 
of  the  population  possesses  in  a  highly  remarkable  degree  the  power  of 
organization,  self-government,  and  self-help.  Work  people,  of  this  class 
earn  better  wages,  work  fewer  hours,  have  secured  improved  conditions 
of  industrial  and  domestic  life  in  other  respects,  and  have  furthered  them- 
selves through  trade  unions  and  friendly  societies. 

"  The  classes  who  compose  the  lower  grades  of  industry,  regarded  as  a 
whole,  have  probably  benefited  no  less  than  the  skilled  workers  from  the 
increased  efficiency  of  production,  from  the  advantages  conferred  by  legis- 
lation, from  the  cheapening  of  food  and  clothing,  and  from  the  opening 
of  new  fields  for  capital  and  labor.  Of  the  mass  of  wholly  unskilled  labor 
a  part  has  been  absorbed  into  higher  grades,  while  the  percentage  of  the 
total  working  population  earning  bare  subsistence  wages  has  been  greatly 
reduced.  .  .  . 

1  Royal  Commission  on  Labor,  fifth  and  final  report,  Part  I,  p.  24,  quoted  by 
Levasseur,  L '  Ouvricr  Americain,  T.  i,  p.  216, 


Social  Misery,  Pauperism,  and  Crime  209 

"There  is  still  a  deplorably  large  residuum  of  the  population  chiefly  to  be 
found  in  our  large  cities  who  load  wretchedly  poor  lives  and  are  seldom 
far  removed  from  the  level  of  starvation ;  but  it  would  seem  that,  not  only 
the  relative,  but  perhaps  even  the  actual,  numbers  of  this  class  also  are 
diminishing." 

It  is  this  "residuum  "  which  now  concerns  us.  It  is  these 
who  are  in  most  pitiable  plight  and  who  are  the  most  discour- 
aging  element  because  they  show  so  little  signs  of  helping 
themselves.  The  facts  already  given  seem  to  indicate  the 
ability  of  the  great  majority  of  the  population  to  gain  an 
increasing  share  in  advancing  civilization.  But  here  is  a 
large  class,  composed  of  many  elements,  which  appear  to 
hang  like  a  millstone  about  the  neck  of  society  —  miserable, 
dangerous,  parasitic. 

The  Influence  of  Modern  Improvements  on  this  Residuum.  — 
In  general  the  conditions  of  modern  life  demand,  as  a  security 
for  existence  without  charity  or  robbery,  that  one  should  have 
ability  of  a  higher  order  than  was  formerly  necessary.  The 
stress  of  competition  is  more  severe.  In  every  calling  the 
applicant  or  candidate  for  a  position  must  compete  with  per- 
sons of  higher  training  and  education.  Machinery  is  more 
swift  and  complicated  every  year.  The  modes  of  transport 
and  communication  quicken  the  pulse  and  step  of  the  regi- 
ments of  the  industrial  army.  The  trade  unions  demand  that 
no  man  be  employed  unless  he  is  paid  a  standard  rate,  a 
minimum  price,  and  every  year  they  succeed  more  and  more 
in  enforcing  this  demand.  A  standard  minimum  rate  is  essen- 
tial to  holding  the  gains  they  have  made.  If  they  yield  that 
demand,  they  go  back  to  the  miserable  rates  and  treatment  of 
a  half  century  ago,  and  the  hard-earned  victories  of  the  modern 
day  are  given  up.  But  what  if  a  person  cannot  earn  this  mini- 
mum wage?  He  cannot  get  employment.  He  is  thrust  out 
into  the  army  of  the  "unemployed."  It  is  a  harsh  process, 
but  it  is  necessary.  Here  and  there  adjustments  are  made  for 
lower  grades  of  workers,  but  this  is  the  tendency.  It  is  more 
and  more  difficult  for  weakness,  incompetency,  stupidity,  to 
find  a  place  in  this  modern  world.  Our  age  offers  premiums 
for  progress,  not  for  defect.  Without  full  recognition  of  this 
tendency  we  shall  not  understand  the  situation.  Business 
p 


2io  Social  Elements 


methods,  inventions,  organized  labor,  insurance  companies, 
employers,  and  even  public  schools  are  in  a  tacit  league  to 
make  it  harder  and  harder  for  the  imbecile,  the  feeble,  and 
the  untrained  to  find  work.  Employers  and  trade  unionists 
alike  will  help  support  the  feeble  by  charity,  but  they  will  not 
tolerate  their  presence  in  the  shop.  This  is  not  sentimental, 
but  it  is  fact.  The  incompetent  get  in  the  way  of  the  swift 
runners. 

"The  general  fact  stands  out  that  the  majority  of  the  community  is  better 
fed,  clothed,  and  housed  than  in  former  times;  that  education  and  general 
knowledge  are  more  widespread;  that  participation  in  political  power,  which 
is  the  guarantee  against  exploitation  by  other  classes,  is  almost  universal; 
and  that  the  social  importance  of  the  working  classes  is  greater  than  it  ever 
has  been  before.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  great  concentration  of  cap- 
ital in  the  hands  of  corporations  and  a  few  individuals,  while  a  portion  of 
the  community  seems  to  be  sunk  in  abject  poverty.  The  stress  of  civiliza- 
tion is  felt  in  greater  opportunity  of  some  and  the  hopeless  submergence 
of  others.  Crime  is  on  the  increase,  except  perhaps  in  England;  suicide, 
vice,  and  insanity  are  more  manifest  than  ever."  1 

To  the  same  effect  M.  E.  Levasseur,  the  French  economist, 
who  has  recently  made  a  careful  study  of  the  situation  in  the 
United  States,  says :  — 

"  The  general  rate  of  wages  has  risen.  There  are  assuredly  some  excep- 
tions. Wages  have  not  risen  for  all,  because  there  is  a  multitude  of  day 
laborers  who,  having  nothing  but  their  hands,  without  trade  instruction, 
are  under  the  yoke  of  unlimited  competition  and  are  exposed  to  struggle 
with  immigrants  of  a  lower  standard  of  life."  2 

The  English  statistician  Mr.  Mulhall  says:  "Nevertheless, 
the  sufferings  of  the  indigent  class  in  our  large  towns  are 
greater  than  ever  before;  the  condition  of  this  class  has  been 
aptly  described  as  far  worse  than  that  of  Hottentots."  3 

II.  Analysis  of  Population  according  to  Economic  Con- 
dition. —  It  should  be  the  first  effort  of  a  social  student  to 
gain  a  clear  and  correct  knowledge  of  the  community  he  would 
help.  The  conditions  of  various  classes  of  a  community  are 
widely  different;  the  causes  of  distress  vary  indefinitely;  and 

1  Mayo-Smith,  Statistics  and  Sociology,  pp.  371,  372. 

2  L'O/ivricr  Amhicain,  T.  i,  p.  373. 

3  Industries  and  Wealth  of  Nations,  p.  102. 


Social  Misery^  Pauperism,  and  Crime  211 

the  modes  best  adapted  to  help  must  be  as  different  as  the 
conditions.  To  some  minds  all  the  "  poor  "  of  a  great  city  are 
alike  in  distress,  in  defect,  and  in  social  responsibility.  In 
the  absence  of  minute  and  expensive  research,  the  ordinary 
notions  of  the  character  and  needs  of  a  population  are  apt  to 
be  cloud}',  partial,  and  often  positively  wrong.  Those  of  a 
hopeful  temper  are  apt  to  overlook  the  distress  which  actually 
exists,  and  those  who  are  weary  of  life  and  pessimistic  are 
prone  to  exaggerate  the  evil  aspects.  Neither  extreme  can  be 
corrected  without  a  local  study  of  the  real  facts  in  their  whole 
extent.  For  this  purpose  every  city  ought  regularly  to  pro- 
vide, at  public  expense,  for  a  minute  and  scientific  investiga- 
tion of  the  conditions  under  which  its  people  live;  and  the 
general  government,  which  in  our  country  has  already  done  so 
much  in  this  field,  should  provide  a  perpetual  census  bureau 
for  the  collection  of  statistics  on  which  reliable  judgments 
may  be  made.  While  each  city  and  each  state  has  conditions 
peculiar  to  itself,  there  are  some  studies  of  modern  commu- 
nities which  are  suggestive  and  instructive.  Probably  the  most 
gigantic  and  reliable  undertaking  of  this  kind  is  that  made  by 
Mr.  Charles  Booth  of  London.1 

A  Standard  of  Classification.  — Mr.  Charles  Booth,  in  order 
to  make  clear  distinctions  in  securing  and  presenting  his  re- 
sults, made  the  following  classification  of  the  population  of 
the  poor  district  of  East  London.  A.  The  lowest  class  of 
occasional  laborers,  loafers,  and  semi-criminals;  B.  Casual 
earnings,  very  poor;  C.  Intermittent  earnings;  D.  Small, 
irregular  earnings  (classes  C  and  D  constitute  the  "poor"); 

E.  Regular  standard  earnings  —  above   the   line  of   poverty; 

F.  Higher-class  labor;  G.  Lower  middle  class;  H.  Upper 
middle  class. 

In  the  district  first  investigated  it  was  found  that  of  the 
900,000  people  studied,  64.8  per  cent  were  above  the  line  of 
poverty  and  35.2  per  cent  were  below  it.  Only  about  6000 
were  inmates  of  institutions,  and  over  300,000  were  living  in 
poverty  in  the  district.     Nearly  one-half  of  these  were  earning 

1  C.  Booth,  Life  and  Labor  in  East  London.  See  article  by  James  Mavor,  in 
Annals  of  the  American  Academy,  July,  1893.  C.  Booth,  A  Picture  of  Pauper- 
ism, and  The  Aged  Poor, 


212  Social  Elements 


regular  low  wages;  about  one-fourth  were  making  irregular 
earnings;  about  one-third  casual  earnings;  and  about  4  per 
cent  of  the  poor,  or  one  and  one-fourth  per  cent  of  the  whole 
population,  belonged  to  the  lowest  class  of  occasional  laborers, 
loafers,  and  semi-criminals.  It  does  not  follow  that  just  these 
proportions  of  the  several  classes  would  be  found  in  other  dis- 
tricts or  cities.  That  could  not  be  known  precisely  without 
local  study.  But  the  analysis  indicates  what,  in  a  general 
way,  may  be  expected,  for  in  all  large  communities  the  same 
gradation  will  be  met. 

Statistics ;  The  Numbers  of  the  Dependents,  Defectives,  and 
Criminals  in  the  United  States.  —  Accurate  information  on 
this  point  is  not  furnished  in  the  census  of  the  nation.  The 
reports  in  a  few  of  the  states  are  more  complete,  but  an  en- 
tirely adequate  statement  cannot  be  made.  Some  fragmentary 
estimates  may  be  formed  from  such  figures  as  we  possess. 

The  census  of  1890  gives  the  number  of  paupers  wholly 
supported  in  poorhouses  as  73,045,  or  1 166.4  Per  million  of 
the  population.  This  shows  a  decrease  from  1880,  when  there 
were  1320  to  the  million.  Some  have  hastily  concluded  from 
this  fact  that  pauperism  has  diminished;  whereas  this  par- 
ticular decrease  is  due  chiefly  to  the  fact  that  the  insane,  the 
children,  and  many  of  the  merely  dependent  have  been  re- 
moved to  other  institutions.1 

Many  of  the  poor  are  supported  or  partly  supported  by  pub- 
lic relief  in  their  own  homes  or  in  private  families.  In  1890 
"the  numerators  returned  the  names  of  24,220  outdoor 
paupers.  But  it  was  decided  to  be  impracticable  to  obtain 
complete  and  accurate  information  concerning  this  class. 
They  are  therefore  entirely  omitted  from  the  statements  con- 
tained in  the  tables  of  figures  herewith  submitted "  (U.  S. 
Census,  1890).  This  sentence  has  been  overlooked  by  many 
able  writers,  and  the  sum  mentioned  has  been  set  down  as 
the  full  number  of  outdoor  paupers  in  this  country,  that  is, 
about  one-fourth  of  the  whole.2 

1  Mr.  C.  D.  Wright  seems  to  fall  into  this  error.  See  his  article  in  Atlantic 
Monthly,  referred  to  in  preceding  chapter. 

2  This  mistake  in  made  by  Mr.  F.  W.  Hewes,  in  an  article  in  the  Outlook,  26 
September,  1896.  It  was  made  in  the  first  edition  of  Triumphant  Democracy, 
by  Mr.  Andrew  Carnegie,  but  modified  in  the  second  edition.    The  statement 


Social  Misery^  Pauperism,  and  Crime  213 


The  error  ought  to  be  corrected  because  it  leads  us  to  un- 
derrate the  difficulty  of  the  social  task  before  us.  Such  opti- 
mistic use  of  statistics  acts  like  an  opiate  on  the  national 
conscience.  Professor  A.  G.  Warner  found  that  in  only  six 
states,  with  a  population  of  19,917,082,  there  were  293,031 
relieved  outside  of  almshouses.  This  is  about  1.43  per  cent 
of  the  population  of  those  states,  and  at  this  ratio  for  the 
entire  country  we  should  have  over  1,000,000  persons  out  of 
70,000,000  aided  in  this  way.  But  such  estimates  have  little 
value  except  to  correct  the  bad  effects  of  guesses  which  give 
too  feeble  an  impression  of  the  facts. 

The  census  of  1890  gives  the  number  of  the  pauper  insane 
at  58,866;  inmates  of  benevolent  institutions,  111,910;  juve- 
nile offenders,  14,846;  prisoners,  82,329;  inmates  of  all  in- 
stitutions enumerated,  340,996.  But  the  criminals,  rich  and 
poor,  who  were  at  large  are  not  numbered. 

These  cold  and  lifeless  figures  do  not  pretend  to  be  com- 
plete. They  cannot  picture  the  misery  which  lurks  in  them. 
But  in  social  studies  it  is  our  duty  to  make  our  conceptions  as 
exact  as  possible,  to  recognize  the  gaps  in  our  knowledge  and 
seek  to  fill  them  up  as  rapidly  as  we  can.  If  we  could  learn 
how  many  persons  are  assisted  or  supported  by  churches,  indi- 
viduals, and  benevolent  associations,  the  numbers  would  be 
vastly  increased.  Indeed,  it  will  never  be  possible  to  enumer- 
ate all  dependent  persons. 

III.  Causes  of  Social  Miseries.  — The  obstacles  in  the  way 
of  human  satisfaction  must  be  either  in  physical  nature  or 
in  man  and  his  methods.  There  is  no  third  party  with  whom 
we  have  power  to  deal.  The  defects  of  a  human  character 
may  be  either  in  our  dispositions  and  character  or  in  our  sys- 
tem of  social  organization. 

So  far  as  nature  is  concerned,  we  have  already  sufficiently 
blamed  our  stars  and  our  material  environment  for  their  share, 
and  we  may  not  return  to  that  attack.  It  does  no  good  to 
grumble  at  nature,  and  it  makes  us  unhappy  to  indulge  in 
criticism  of  the  inevitable.  Either  we  can  help  ourselves  or 
we  cannot.     If  we  are  helpless,  it  is  best  to  be  resigned;  if 

is  frequently  repeated  as  evidence  that  there  are  very  few  paupers  in  our  rich 
land. 


214  Social  Elements 


we  can  do  anything  to  utilize  such  help  as  nature  offers,  it  is 
wiser  to  lose  no  time  in  empty  threats  at  clouds  and  cataracts, 
at  stony  soil,  floods,  prolonged  rains  and  drought.  Out  of 
justice  and  charity  to  the  poor  we  must  never  forget  that  in 
many  places  the  soil  is  barren  and  parsimonious,  and  that 
much  labor  brings  scant  return. 

Defects  in  the  Character  and  Conduct  of  Men  are  to  blame 
for  Much  Social  Trouble,  Loss,  and  Pain.  —  It  is  no  more  than 
fair  to  begin  with  the  "better  classes."  Here  the  opportunity 
and  responsibility  are  the  greatest.  The  wrongs  done  by  the 
rich,  powerful,  and  influential  are  least  excusable  and  most 
hurtful.  Without  seeking  to  bring  an  indictment  against  a 
whole  class  or  charging  the  entire  group  with  the  sins  of  a  few, 
it  must  be  admitted  at  once  that  the  wage-workers  have  a  real 
grievance  when  they  criticise  those  who  represent  to  them  the 
control  of  affairs.  They  are  able  to  find  in  the  daily  news- 
papers reports  of  defalcation  and  embezzlement  of  public 
funds.  They  grow  bitter  and  indignant,  not  without  reason, 
when  they  read  of  heads  of  corporations  who  have  bribed  men 
of  their  own  election,  in  state  and  city  legislatures,  to  give 
away  valuable  franchises  without  remuneration  to  the  com- 
munity. Their  blood  boils  when  they  are  told  by  the  reporters 
that  a  road  which  cost  $7,000,000  pays  taxes  on  $1,000,000 
and  collects  dividends  from  the  public  on  $15,000,000  of 
bonds,  mostly  "water."  The  small  tax  payer  who  is  hard 
pressed  to  meet  his  assessment  on  a  little  home  and  a  light 
stock  of  goods  at  nearly  their  full  value,  feels  that  justice  is 
violated  when  he  learns  that  a  stock  worth  $100,000  is  assessed 
at  $10,000,  and  that  to  secure  this  low  assessment  the  public 
officer  was  bribed  by  the  rich  merchant. 

In  the  shop  or  warehouse  the  workman  feels  a  dagger  go  to 
his  heart  when  the  manager  looks  at  him  and  speaks  to  him 
with  imperial  air  of  pride  and  contempt,  or  issues  orders  as  if 
courtesy  had  no  place  except  among  members  of  the  "upper 
ten  hundred."  He  is  hurt  to  the  quick  when  the  manager 
declares  that  it  is  beneath  his  dignity  to  treat  with  authorized 
representatives  of  his  union,  elected  in  a  legal  and  regular 
way. 

The  man  of  scant  income  is  further  wounded  when  he  reads 


Social  Misery,  Pauperism,  and  Crime  215 


of  the  money  flung  to  the  winds  in  a  single  evening  of  gluttony 
and  display  by  those  who  claim  to  be  "Society."  Perhaps  he 
does  not  always  wisely  distinguish  between  legitimate  and 
harmful  luxury.  Perhaps  his  own  narrow  experience  of  the 
world  seals  his  eyes  and  understanding  to  the  advantages,  even 
from  the  largest  social  view,  of  expenditures  for  pictures, 
statues,  elegant  residences,  and  grounds.  Granted  that  popular 
criticism  of  the  outlay  of  rich  folk  is  often  gross,  selfish,  and 
misinformed,  and  that  such  outlay  does  help  to  "circulate 
money,"  yet  there  is  a  limit  to  luxury.  This  limit  is  not  easily 
defined,  but  it  may  be  known  by  any  one  who  sincerely  desires 
to  consider  the  interests  of  his  fellow-men  along  with  his  own 
true  interests.  It  is  very  clear  that  expenditure  which  debases 
the  taste  of  the  owner  himself  by  its  barbarous  ostentation,  or 
which  produces  in  him  the  diseases  of  voluptuous  indolence, 
must  be  evil.  But  it  is  not  enough  to  consider  the  influence 
of  luxury  on  the  owner;  all  other  influences  and  effects  must 
be  estimated.  It  is  difficult  to  preach  thrift,  self-control,  and 
temperance  to  the  poor  when  they  read  of  the  debauchery  and 
license  of  wealthy  men. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  just  to  hear  the  criticism  of  wage- 
workers  which  come  from  their  own  leaders  and  from  the  suc- 
cessful classes.  First  of  all  we  have  the  enormous  drink  bill, 
largely,  though  by  no  means  exclusively,  paid  by  the  men  of 
meagre  income.  Some  of  us  sincerely  think  that  the  vast  sum 
spent  on  tobacco  might  be  cut  down  and  the  saving  invested 
in  better  houses,  pictures,  and  books,  especially  when  tobacco 
and  liquor  give  pleasure  chiefly  to  members  of  the  male  sex, 
and  little  but  deprivation,  trouble,  anxiety,  and  despair  to  the 
women. 

Since  income  must  be  paid  out  of  product,  any  habits 
which  diminish  the  efficiency  of  machinery  must  diminish 
the  national  ability  to  pay  higher  wages.  Ignorance,  want 
of  skill,  neglect,  irregularity,  dishonesty,  and  every  immoral 
habit  of  workers  must  be  part  cause  of  their  distress.  In 
many  individual  instances  all  acknowledge  this  to  be  true. 

The  population  at  large  has  not  yet  come  near  the  line 
where  the  soil  will  not  furnish  enough  to  feed  the  people.  If 
all  who  now  live  could  and  would  work,  there  is  land  enough, 


216  Social  Elements 


if  the  worker  could  have  access  to  it,  to  supply  the  mere 
necessities  of  animal  existence.  But  all  must  see  that  there 
are  only  too  many  families  where  the  parents  bring  children 
into  the  world  when  they  must  know  they  cannot  earn  enough 
to  support  them.  Apparently  this  tendency  is  strongest 
precisely  where  it  does  the  most  mischief.  If  anything  is 
immoral,  this  is  immoral;  and  people  must  learn  that  the/ 
responsible  authors  of  life  should  be  expected  by  society  to 
support  it.  In  savage  times  parents  who  could  not  supply  their 
offspring  with  food  killed  them  or  sold  them  as  slaves.  Modern 
morality  will  not  tolerate  this  course,  but  permits  irresponsible 
parents  to  abandon  their  weakling  brood  to  public  charity. 

The  causes  of  defective  constitution  and  of  that  mental 
and  physical  weakness  which  unfits  for  struggle  and  leads  to 
pauperism  are  numerous  and  complex.  The  parish  visitor 
finds  a  family  very  poor  and  asking  for  broken  food  and  cast-off 
clothing.  Why  do  they  beg?  Because  they  are  hungry  and 
cold.  Why  are  they  in  want?  Because  the  father  cannot  earn 
enough  to  pay  rent  and  grocery  bills.  And  what  is  the  cause 
of  his  inability?  Sickness  and  feebleness.  But  what  is  the 
origin  of  his  sickness?  He  is  a  drunkard.  What  made  him 
a  drunkard?  His  father  was  a  drinking  man  before  him,  and 
the  lad  grew  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  bad  example  and  foul 
odors.  Vice  produces  poverty,  and  poverty  tempts  to  theft 
and  begging.  Each  factor  acts  on  every  other  factor,  in  end- 
less reciprocity. 

For  some  of  the  causes  of  vice,  crime,  and  pauperism  we 
must  go  back  several  generations.  Every  error  and  every 
injury,  every  wrong  and  all  neglect  in  church,  school,  and  state, 
conspire  to  crush  and  debase  those  who  are  already  low  down 
in  the  scale  of  energy  and  moral  fibre. 

IV.  What  are  we  Doing  to  help  these  Helpless  Ones  in  the 
United  States?  —  Every  citizen  should  know  the  modes  of 
public  relief  of  his  own  state  and  county  or  city  in  order  to 
direct  the  destitute  and  to  make  the  improvement  of  methods 
his  own  constant  care.  The  system  of  relief  differs  somewhat 
in  the  various  states  of  the  Union.1 

1  I  follow  here  the  arrangement  of  material  used  in  my  article  in  Jahr- 
buecher  fuer  Nationaloekonomie  mid  StaHstik,  3te  Folge,  1898. 


Social  Misery,   Pauperism,  and  Crime  217 


A  "pauper"  is  a  person  who,  on  account  of  poverty,  needs 
relief.  The  epithet  does  not  imply  that  the  person  is  good 
or  bad,  worthy  or  unworthy,  but  simply  that  he  cannot  support 
himself  and  has  no  friends  who  can  or  will  take  care  of  him. 
It  is  a  common  theory  of  our  poor-laws  that  a  resident  of  a 
county  or  town  is  entitled  to  receive  assistance  in  destitution, 
while  strangers  have  no  claims.  But  this  theory  does  not  work 
in  practice,  and  all  states  make  some  kind  of  provision  for 
those  who  need,  whatever  be  their  origin  or  the  cause  of  their 
distress. 

The  state  legislatures  have  the  power  to  determine  the 
methods  to  be  used  by  towns,  counties,  and  cities  for  local 
relief.  These  local  governments  have  many  different  methods 
of  performing  this  duty.  Sometimes  the  county  authorities 
administer  the  fund  directly;  sometimes  the  township  or  town 
or  city  erects  machinery  for  this  end;  sometimes  the  state 
supports  a  class  of  paupers  who  have  no  legal  claims  on  local 
authorities.  In  certain  parts  of  the  country  the  authorities  can 
make  contracts  with  private  families  to  board  the  dependents 
at  public  expense.  A  very  common  practice  is  to  build  a 
poorhouse  for  those  who  are  utterly  friendless  and  alone,  and 
to  give  aid  in  their  homes  to  those  who  can  partly  support 
themselves. 

Provision  is  generally  made  for  the  sick  poor  by  the  public 
system,  a  physician  being  paid  to  care  for  those  who  cannot 
pay,  and  medicines  being  furnished  without  cost.  I  -arge  com- 
munities, towns  and  cities,  either  build  hospitals  or  make  con- 
tracts with  private  hospitals  for  the  care  of  the  sick  poor. 

For  a  long  time  it  was  only  too  common  to  place  little 
homeless  children  in  county  poorhouses,  where  they  mingled 
with  old  paupers  and  criminals  and  learned  vice  of  them. 
This  wicked  policy  is  now  condemned  by  enlightened  public 
opinion,  and  in  the  more  progressive  states  it  has  been  made 
illegal.  The  legislatures  have  made  various  kinds  of  provision 
for  orphans  and  other  homeless  children :  provide  for  binding- 
out  and  apprenticing;  or  for  boarding  them  in  families  at 
public  expense  until  they  are  adopted  or  come  of  age. 

The  feeble-minded,  in  the  more  advanced  states,  are  cared 
for  in  separate  schools  and  asylums,  public  and  private.     The 


218  Social  Elements 


better  opinion  commends  this  method  and  pleads  for  life-long 
custody  of  those  who  are  irresponsible.  Idiotic  and  imbecile 
children  should  never,  under  any  circumstances,  be  brought 
up  with  other  children.  Adult  feeble-minded  men  and  women 
ought  not  to  be  left  free  to  wander  about,  the  sport  of  thought- 
less boys,  victims  of  the  vicious  and  reckless.  Irresponsible 
girls  and  women  should  not  be  permitted  to  go  in  and  out  of 
poorhouses  at  their  pleasure,  because  they  are  almost  certain 
to  have  illegitimate  children  who  inherit  their  weakness  and 
augment  the  great  army  of  incompetents  and  criminals.  Sev- 
eral of  the  states  have  led  in  the  advance  movement  to  segre- 
gate all  such  cases,  to  treat  them  with  firm  kindness,  and  to 
remove  them  all  their  lives  from  the  danger  to  which  their 
defects  expose  them. 

The  states  almost  always  provide  for  the  education  of  the 
blind  in  special  institutions,  on  the  principle  that  all  citizens 
are  entitled  to  an  education,  and  that  those  who  cannot  be 
taught  in  the  ordinary  schools  should  be  taught  in  special 
schools  suited  to  their  needs.  As  there  are  usually  not  enough 
of  this  class  in  a  county  or  town  to  justify  a  local  school,  the 
state  takes  upon  itself  the  duty  for  all.  The  deaf  mutes  are 
educated  and  cared  for  on  the  same  principles.  But  all  deaf 
mutes  should  be  educated,  so  far  as  possible,  with  normal 
children,  and  should  not  be  a  separate  class. 

The  insane,  whether  dependent  or  not,  are  cared  for  by  the 
states.  Private  establishments  under  rigid  state  control  may 
also  protect  and  treat  the  insane,  and  wealthy  persons  fre- 
quently choose  to  send  their  insane  to  such  places.  In  some 
states  the  friends  or  estates  of  the  well-to-do  insane  may  be 
charged  with  the  cost  of  their  care.     But  no  one  is  excluded. 

It  is  not  generally  understood  that  the  epileptics  are  a  very 
large  class  in  every  land,  and  that  they  require  a  special  treat- 
ment. They  should  not  be  placed  with  the  insane  nor  with 
the  feeble-minded,  as  a  rule,  but  should  have  homes  in  the 
country,  in  colonies,  where  they  may  labor  for  their  living  in 
the  intervals  of  paroxysms  and  be  kept  apart  from  the  stress 
and  pressure  of  public  life. 

The  confirmed  inebriates  have  furnished  a  problem  of  public 
care  which  is  not  yet  solved.     Certain  localities  have  made 


Social  Misery ',  Pauperism,  and  Crime  219 


experiments  with  special  institutions  for  their  treatment.  The 
methods  thus  far  tried  have  been  only  moderately  encouraging. 
It  is  clear  that  the  present  neglect  of  this  class  cannot  long  be 
tolerated  by  enlightened  public  opinion. 

Private  Charity*  —  In  addition  to  this  legal  or  public  system 
of  relief  there  is  a  vast  and  growing  system  of  institutions  sup- 
ported by  benevolent  associations,  endowments,  and  private 
persons,  dedicated  to  the  sacred  service  of  charity  for  all  kinds 
of  distress.  Voluntary  gifts  and  services  have  made  possible 
the  care  of  the  sick  in  numerous  hospitals;  nurses  are  trained 
for  visiting  the  homes  of  the  poor  or  for  nursing  them  in  the 
hospitals;  orphan  asylums  are  multiplied;  funds  are  raised  to 
keep  the  unemployed  from  starving  in  times  of  special  depres- 
sion; lodging-houses  are  opened  for  the  homeless  wanderers, 
men  and  women;  child-saving  societies  are  busy  everywhere 
guarding  the  interests  of  the  young;  social  settlements  bring 
the  means  of  aesthetic  and  scientific  enjoyment  to  the  very 
door  of  the  poor;  and  invention  busies  itself  with  devising 
some  way  of  comfort  or  help  for  every  kind  of  need. 

In  spite  of  all  these  appliances  misery  continues,  and,  in 
many  places,  increases.  Charity  is  at  best  a  mitigation  of 
the  evils  of  poverty,  and  it  is  often  administered  in  such  a  way 
as  to  positively  increase  misery.  If  charity  educates  people 
to  depend  upon  others,  if  it  trains  them  to  idleness  and  beg- 
gary, if  it  offers  premiums  upon  unthrift,  then  charity  does 
the  work  of  hate  and  evil.  It  debases  the  moral  nature, 
and  finally  raises  up  so  large  an  army  of  the  unfit  that  all  the 
product  of  the  industrious  laborers  cannot  support  the  burden. 
Therefore  the  method  of  distributing  relief  is  one  of  the  most 
serious  problems  of  our  civilization. 

State  Boards  of  Charity  and  Correction. — The  various 
states  are  gradually,  but  all  too  slowly,  establishing  boards  of 
representative  men  and  women  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  and 
inspecting  the  institutions  of  charity  and  correction.  They 
are  able  to  expose  and  correct  abuses,  to  protect  the  poor,  and 
to  suggest  advanced  methods  to  inexperienced  officials. 

In  every  town  and  city  there  should  be  a  society  composed 
of  delegates  or  representatives  of  all  benevolent  associations, 
churches,   and   civic  bodies,  whose  purpose    it   should   be  to 


220  Social  Elements 


maintain  a  good  understanding  and  a  common  plan  of  har- 
monious action  on  behalf  of  the  dependent  and  those  in  peril 
of  falling  into  need.  A  confidential  record  of  all  persons  and 
families  applying  for  relief  should  be  kept,  so  as  to  give  wise 
direction  to  charity  and  prevent  imposture.  Children  in 
vicious  homes  should  be  rescued.  Assistance  should  be  given 
on  the  basis  of  work.  Thrift  and  self-help  should  be  en- 
couraged. Educational  and  sanitary  improvements  should  be 
carried  forward  by  united  action. 

The  National  Conference  of  Charities  and  Corrections,  the 
National  Prison  Association,  and  local  organizations  with  simi- 
lar scope  and  aim  have  been  formed  by  practical  workers  and 
students  for  the  purpose  of  comparison  of  views,  discussion 
of  important  questions,  encouragement  of  reformers,  and  the 
introduction  of  the  best  methods. 

V.  The  Problem  of  the  Unemployed.  — Into  a  few  paragraphs 
must  be  condensed  the  suggestions  which  require  far  more 
elaboration.  We  should  distinguish  between  the  unemployed 
and  the  unemployable,  to  use  a  happy  distinction  of  Mr.  Webb. 
Consider  first  what  might  be  done  for  the  capable  unemployed. 
The  social  demand  is  for  more  regular  industry,  production 
free  from  the  fever-and-ague  fits  of  occasional  high  pressure 
alternating  with  periods  of  idleness.  One  cannot  pretend  to 
foresee  how  this  difficulty  will  be  removed,  if  it  can  be  re- 
moved. Socialists  tell  us  that  private  control  of  industry  can 
never  regulate  industry,  and  that  production  should  be  gov- 
erned by  state  officials  in  one  grand  system,  so  that  no  capable 
workman  should  ever  be  idle,  and  none  ever  be  hurried  to 
severe  strain.  Here  we  are  in  the  region  of  conjecture  and 
prophecy.  They  may  be  right,  but  we  do  not  know.  The 
change  of  system  might  be  our  ruin,  and  it  is  so  far  off  as  to 
bring  no  good  to  our  generation.  Under  the  present  system 
of  private  direction  can  society  lessen  the  evils  of  fluctuation 
and  irregular  employment? 

Employers  might  do  something  to  cure  the  evil  by  making 
their  plans  to  keep  their  works  going  more  steadily  and  avoid 
the  rush  of  specially  active  seasons.  The  consumers  of  goods 
have  it  in  their  power,  by  concerted  action,  to  distribute  their 
purchases  over  a  larger  portion  of  the  year.     Spasmodic  de- 


Social  Misery,  Pauperism,  and  Crime  221 

mand  compels  spasmodic  activity  of  shops  and  factories.  A 
great  social  event  on  which  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars 
are  spent  may  give  momentary  employment  to  a  large  number 
of  persons,  even  beyond  their  powers  of  endurance,  and  then 
leave  these  same  persons  idle  and  without  income  for  many 
months.  It  is  not  altogether  possible  to  avoid  these  vicissi- 
tudes of  demand,  but  generally  intelligence  and  reflection 
might  modify  the  customs  of  society  in  the  right  direction. 
Consumers'  Leagues  urge  persons  of  leisure  to  do  their  shop- 
ping in  the  morning  and  not  to  defer  holiday  purchases  until 
the  last  moment,  and  they  are  beginning  to  improve  the  holi- 
day customs.  Trade  unions  have  diminished  the  irregularity 
of  employment  by  discouraging  "over-time,"  excessively  long 
hours,  and  by  insisting  on  steady  occupation  of  those  who  are 
actually  hired. 

Legislation  may  by  cautious  measures  help  to  secure  more 
uniformity  of  hours  and  business  methods.  All  such  con- 
siderations belong  to  political  economy  and  to  practical 
statesmanship. 

VI.  The  Unemployable.  —  It  should  be  made  distinct  and 
clear  that  in  passing  from  the  capable  to  the  unemployable 
we  are  dealing  with  entirely  different  elements.  We  cannot 
treat  minor  children  on  the  same  legal  principles  as  adults. 
The  feeble-minded,  the  insane,  and  all  anti-social  persons 
must  be  regarded  and  treated  according  to  their  nature, 
capacity,  and  attitude  to  society.  Justice  and  benevolence 
must  make  the  distinctions  and  take  on  adapted  and  suitable 
forms.  The  doctrine  of  free  contract  applies  only  to  free 
beings,  liberated  from  dependence  by  maturity  of  power  and 
education.  The  idea  of  liberty  to  choose  place,  calling,  and 
employer  does  not  have  any  meaning  in  the  case  of  defectives. 
The  great  majority  of  workmen  in  past  ages  were  slaves  or 
serfs.  In  later  times,  through  increased  intelligence  and 
moral  mastery,  they  have  gained  the  place  of  personal  re- 
sponsibility. A  small  class  of  adults  remain  unable  to  use 
this  freedom,  and  society  must  deal  with  them  as  with  persons 
still  under  tutelage.  But  every  effort  should  be  made  to 
educate  for  freedom  and  self-direction,  not  toward  hopeless 
dependence  and  parasitic  habits. 


222  Social  El  erne  Jits 


The  first  step  is  to  organize  the  unorganized  working  men 
and  women.  Poor  sewing-girls,  tailors,  and  a  multitude  of 
persons  engaged  in  various  unskilled  occupations  are  com- 
peting against  each  other  and  driving  each  other  in  herds 
down  the  slope  of  misery  and  pauperism.  They  are  like  sheep 
without  a  shepherd,  and  the  Master  certainly  pities  them. 
They  are  without  education,  without  hope,  without  self-respect 
or  aspiration.  When  they  strike,  it  is  to  be  defeated,  because 
they  have  no  funds  to  support  them  and  no  experience  in 
bargaining  as  a  body  with  keen  employers.  Indeed,  their 
employers  are  frequently  as  poor  and  anxious  as  themselves. 
In  union  there  would  be  hope,  education,  light,  influence, 
and  public  thought.  Artisans  and  mechanics  of  the  factory 
type  are  more  easily  brought  into  efficient  association;  it  is 
these  scattered  and  largely  unskilled  people  who  need  help 
from  without  to  make  them  feel  the  utility  of  combination. 
Philanthropy  could  do  a  thousand  times  more  for  this  class  by 
organizing  them  than  by  casting  alms  into  their  laps.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  fill  them  with  aimless  discontent,  to  stir  them 
to  hate  and  bitterness,  to  arouse  them  to  wrath  against  the  rich. 
All  this  is  useless  and  hurtful.  Appeal  can  be  made  to  the 
same  motive  which  merchants  and  manufacturers  and  corpora- 
tions employ  when  they  offer  partnerships  or  sell  stocks  and 
bonds,  thus  increasing  the  number  of  shareholders  and  the 
resources  of  the  enterprise. 

Women's  clubs,  social  settlements,  and  philanthropic  socie- 
ties should  direct  their  efforts  for  those  on  the  lower  margin 
of  self-support  in  this  way.  Thus  the  dock  laborers  of  Eng- 
land were  assisted  to  combine  and  secure  important  improve- 
ments in  their  conditions,  which  had  been  so  utterly  hopeless 
and  wretched  before. 

Tests.  — Each  year,  but  especially  in  very  "bad  times,"  the 
cities  are  troubled  with  the  presence  of  a  large  number  of  wan- 
dering men  who  cannot  find  employment,  or  who  pretend  that 
it  cannot  be  found.  The  honest  laborer  and  the  drunken 
tramp,  the  workman  out  of  a  job  and  the  vagabond  who  trem- 
bles lest  work  be  offered  him,  the  adventurous  youth  and  the 
hardened  thief,  are  mingled  and  crowded  in  the  cheap  lodging- 
houses,  and  even  on  the  floors  of  police  stations,  with  nothing 


Social  Misery y  Pauperism,  and  Crime  223 

but  a  sheet  of  newspaper,  perhaps,  for  a  bed  on  the  stone 
pavement.  These  men  beg  on  the  streets  or  knock  at  the 
kitchen  door.  They  swarm  in  places  where  free  soup  is  offered, 
and  sometimes  form  mobs  to  threaten  the  banks  and  public 
authorities.  Bread  riots  are  frequent  in  some  countries  and 
have  occurred  in  this  country. 

Now  the  first  public  duty  is  to  sift  this  mass  and  classify 
the  mixed  material  of  which  it  is  composed.  The  only  reliable 
test  is  work.  Each  community  should  provide  for  such  a  work 
test,  under  the  careful  direction  of  the  mayor  or  other  chief 
head  of  local  government.1  The  wages  promised  should  not 
be  equal  to  those  of  ordinary  wage-earners,  because  no  induce- 
ment should  be  made  to  keep  men  from  accepting  the  best 
employment  that  ordinary  business  can  afford.  Nor  should 
the  products  of  this  work  come  into  competition  with  those  of 
ordinary  industry  in  such  a  way  that  those  who  are  employed 
shall  suffer  a  reduction  of  wages  and  be  driven  to  beg.  This 
is  a  nice  and  difficult  task,  and  demands  ability  of  high  order. 
In  small  towns  or  cities  a  stone-yard  may  answer  the  purpose. 

One  of  the  first  effects  of  the  work  test  is  to  induce  weak 
and  wavering  men  who  are  playing  at  the  trade  of  mendicancy 
to  go  to  work,  when  employment  can  be  obtained.  The  next 
effect  is  to  distinguish  the  willing  from  the  lazy. 

But  this  sifting  process  is  only  a  beginning,  and  it  must  be 
related  to  a  complete  and  adequate  system,  of  which  it  is  only 
one  factor.  It  would  be  simply  heartless  and  cruel  to  test 
men  as  in  a  mere  scientific  experiment,  without  any  intention 
of  helping  them  humanely  until  our  resources  of  wisdom  and 
means  are  exhausted. 

In  the  course  of  applying  the  work  test  it  would  usually  be 
found  that  a  large  number  of  young  men  and  of  women  entirely 
willing  and  able  to  work  had  become  mixed  up  with  the  other 
classes  through  want  of  early  and  special  training.  Thrown 
upon  their  own  resources,  without  having  learned  any  form  of 
skilled  labor,  they  are  the  last  to  be  employed  and  the  first  to 
be  discharged.  Indeed,  the  employers  find  it  impossible  to 
use  their  service  because  it  is  so  awkward  and  inefficient.  At 
this  stage  the  state  or  the  city  should  provide  a  system  of  farm 

1  Article  by  Mr.  Homer  Folks,  Charities'  Review,  March,  1898. 


224  Social  Elements 


colonies  and  shops,  to  which  the  capable  and  willing  should 
be  sent,  at  their  own  choice,  for  the  purpose  of  training  them 
to  do  some  useful  work.  Some  of  them  could  be  taught  farm 
work;  others,  various  processes  of  manufacturing.  Nor  would 
this  be  a  new  thing  for  the  government,  since  the  policy  has 
already  been  adopted  for  one  class  of  wayward  citizens, —  the 
prisoners.  It  has  long  been  the  declared  policy  of  all  modern 
states  to  train  the  criminal  for  a  life  of  usefulness,  because  it 
has  been  discovered  everywhere  that  young  men  often  follow 
the  trade  of  crime  because  society  has  never  taught  them  any 
other.  But  why  should  society  wait  for  a  young  man  to  get 
the  habits  of  crime  before  it  gives  him  the  opportunity  of 
making  himself  a  productive  and  useful  member  of  the  group? 
Vagrants  fall  into  the  habit  of  wandering  and  begging  because 
they  have  no  other  habits,  and  they  hardly  know  why  they  are 
not  employed. 

The  same  work  test,  under  careful  management  and  watch- 
ful supervision,  would  classify  others  as  not  capable  of  being 
trained  to  take  care  of  themselves.  It  is  dangerous  to  permit 
them  to  wander  about  as  vagrants.  It  is  a  wrong  to  self- 
supporting  wage-earners  to  permit  them  to  compete  with  the 
independent  poor  and  reduce  them  to  pauperism.  For  these 
incapables  the  community  should  furnish  a  farm  colony,  where 
they  might  be  supported  at  public  expense,  but  not  in  idleness 
nor  with  freedom  to  discharge  themselves  on  the  first  fine 
spring  days,  to  prey  on  indiscriminate  charity.  Society  is 
even  now  supporting  them  and  permitting  them  to  produce 
children  as  feeble,  incompetent,  and  diseased  as  themselves. 
It  is  not  a  question  of  whether  society  shall  keep  them  alive, 
but  of  whether  they  shall  be  kept  alive  by  a  method  which 
degrades  them,  injures  those  just  above  them  in  ability,  and 
burdens  the  next  generation  with  a  larger  number  of  incom- 
petents and  degenerates.  For  a  part  of  these  incapables  the 
custodial  asylums  of  the  feeble-minded  are  the  appropriate 
places.  For  others,  somewhat  stronger,  better  provision  would 
be  special  farm  colonies  under  rigid  supervision,  to  which 
admission  is  gained  by  choice  or  by  judicial  warrant  or  by 
certificate  of  poor-authorities,  but  from  which  discharge  comes 
only  by  special  act  of  the  poor-authorities,  under  careful  legal 
definitions. 


Social  Misery,  Pauperism,  and  Crime         225 

Such  custodial  institutions,  when  once  provided  with  land 
and  cheap  buildings,  may  be  made  almost,  if  not  quite,  self- 
supporting,  through  the  directed  and  organized  labor  of  the 
men  and  women.  Thousands  of  persons  can  work  well  enough 
under  command  who  cannot  find  work  in  a  competitive  labor 
market. 

There  is  another  class  of  vagrants  who  cannot  be  managed 
so  easily  as  those  just  mentioned;  they  are  the  confirmed 
tramps,  often  criminal  in  disposition  and  with  a  criminal 
record  under  various  names.  They  are  the  terror  of  farmers 
and  farmers'  wives.  They  are  the  "sturdy  beggars"  of  Eng- 
lish story,  known  in  every  country  during  all  the  mediaeval 
times,  and  surviving  in  our  own  age  as  a  reminder  of  the 
"good  old  times"  when  robbery  and  highway  callings  were 
legitimate  industries.  These  men  are  venal  voters  in  the  slum 
wards  of  cities.  They  are  loathsome  with  physical  and  moral 
disease  and  the  corrupters  of  all  with  whom  they  come  in  con- 
tact. Among  them  are  swarms  of  persons,  men  and  women, 
who  spend  their  lives  in  the  invention  of  new  modes  of  beg- 
ging. 

Here  again  the  farm  colony,  under  still  more  rigid  condi- 
tions, is  the  best  social  treatment.  This  need  not  be  severe 
or  harsh,  except  as  all  discipline  and  deprivation  of  liberty 
are  hard  for  men  who  detest  regularity  and  hard  work. 

After  all  the  measures  suggested,  we  should  still  have  the 
discharged  prisoner  to  handle.  To  this  subject  a  few  sentences 
must  be  devoted. 

VII.  The  Criminal. — Society  has  established  from  very 
early  times  a  system  of  ciminal  law,  procedure,  and  punish- 
ment. It  is  one  of  the  primary  functions  of  government  to 
protect  the  lives  and  property  of  citizens  against  fraud  and 
violence  in  all  their  forms. 

Legislatures  define  the  acts  which  constitute  crimes.  The 
courts  are  established  to  hear  complaints  and  the  evidence  of 
accusers,  and  to  pronounce  sentence.  Police  officers  are 
provided  to  detect,  arrest,  and  bring  to  the  courts  for  trial. 
Sheriffs  and  prison  officials  are  employed  to  carry  the  sentence 
of  the  courts  into  execution. 

What  is  the  object  of  all  this  elaborate  social  machinery? 
Q 


226  Social  Elements 


To  protect  the  members  of  society  against  the  injurious  acts 
of  the  anti-social  man.  This  is  the  primary  purpose.  But 
the  anti-social  man  is  also  a  member  of  society,  with  rights  and 
interests.  His  character  and  conduct  are  the  concern  of  all. 
As  a  human  being  he  is  entitled  to  our  pity  and  care.  If 
society  can,  in  the  very  act  of  protecting  itself,  reform  the 
criminal  and  so  educate  him  as  to  make  him  conform  to  the 
right  modes  of  life,  there  is  a  clear  gain  for  all. 

It  is  so  difficult  for  a  man  who  has  once  been  imprisoned 
to  rise  in  the  respect  of  others  and  to  respect  himself,  that  we 
should  avoid  imprisonment  as  far  as  possible  without  encour- 
aging crime.  England  has  been  making  a  vast  experiment 
with  the  plan  of  substituting  fines  for  imprisonment.  Many 
thousands  of  youths  have  thus  been  saved  from  associating  with 
old  criminals.  It  is  urged  by  high  authorities  that  a  man  who 
has  damaged  the  property  of  another,  or  hurt  him  by  act  of 
violence,  should  be  compelled  to  make  pecuniary  restitution 
by  labor.  This  would  be  a  severe  lesson,  would  be  a  substan- 
tial recompense  to  the  injured  person,  and  would  save  certain 
men  of  hot  tempers,  who  are  by  no  means  criminal  in  disposi- 
tion and  habit,  from  the  degrading  influences  of  the  prison. 
Some  new  offenders  could  be  saved  by  placing  them  under  the 
responsible  guardianship  of  good  citizens  under  suspended 
sentence,  without  sending  them  to  jail. 

In  all  modern  countries  societies  for  aiding  discharged 
prisoners  have  been  formed,  and  in  individual  cases  have 
done  much  good.  The  case  of  a  friendless  man  at  the  moment 
he  goes  forth  from  the  prison  gate  is  pitiful  in  the  extreme. 
His  record  is  against  him;  he  has  formed  the  acquaintance 
of  thieves;  even  if  he  desires  to  reform,  the  world  sets  up  a 
wall  in  his  face. 

Attempts  have  been  made  to  form  colonies  of  such  men, 
free  for  them  to  come  and  go  as  they  like.  Excellent  religious 
persons,  supported  by  philanthropy,  have  hoped  to  influence 
such  men  by  religious  appeals  and  by  rewards  of  industry. 
Unfortunately,  there  is  a  constant  danger  of  colonies  of  this 
kind  becoming  dens  of  thieves,  haunts  of  robbers,  starting- 
points  for  raids  upon  society. 

A  better  method  is  that  used  by  Mr.  Z.  R.  Brockway  and 


Social  Misery,  Pauperism,  and  Crime  227 


other  heads  of  reformatories  and  prisons  where  the  "  indeter- 
minate sentence"  is  legal.  A  few  weeks  before  the  time  for 
discharge  on  parole,  the  superintendent  finds  a  place  of  em- 
ployment for  the  young  offender,  preferably  in  the  very  com- 
munity where  his  crime  was  committed.  The  chief  of  police 
or  sheriff  becomes  interested  in  him  and  watches  over  him 
during  the  period  of  his  sentence,  and  until  he  gives  evidence 
of  being  able  to  hold  himself  upright.  The  advantage  of  this 
method  is  that  the  offender  knows  that  if  he  does  not  keep  his 
word  and  act  according  to  the  rules,  he  will  be  taken  back  to 
prison  and  subjected  to  still  harder  conditions.  A  private 
religious  society  has  no  such  control  over  the  discharged  man. 
The  legal  method  does  not  exclude  religious  work  on  his  be- 
half, but  it  affords  the  help  which  most  such  weak  characters 
require  for  a  long  time,  the  assurance  that  they  will  have  work 
and  the  fear  that  if  they  refuse  to  work  regularly  they  will  be 
again  incarcerated. 

After  all,  the  most  encouraging  and  necessary  effort  is  that 
directed  to  the  proper  education  of  wayward  youth.  Preven- 
tion is  the  true  policy  of  nations.  It  is  not  likely  that  crime 
can  ever  be  entirely  prevented,  but  it  can  be  greatly  reduced 
by  caring  for  endangered  children  at  an  age  before  the  stress 
of  temptation  begins.  Education,  mental,  moral,  spiritual, 
is  the  chief  means  of  restoring  the  wanderer,  and  it  is  the 
only  way  of  turning  childhood  and  youth  from  the  downward 
path  to  ruin. 


CHAPTER   XI 

The  School  and  its  Social  Service 

"  We  confront  the  dangers  of  suffrage  by  the  blessings  of  universal 
education."  —  President  J.  A.  Garfield. 

"  Science,  the  arts,  and  every  form  of  human  knowledge  await  the  com- 
ing of  one  who  shall  link  and  unite  them  all  in  a  single  idea  of  civilization, 
and  concentrate  them  all  in  one  sole  aim.  They  await  his  coming,  and  he 
is  destined  to  appear.  With  him  the  anarchy  that  now  torments  intelli- 
gence will  cease;  and  of  arts  —  the  proper  place  and  rank  assigned  to 
each,  the  vital  power  of  each  fortified  by  the  vital  power  of  all,  and  sancti- 
fied by  the  exercise  of  a  mission  —  will  once  more  flourish  with  harmonious 
union,  immortal  and  revered."  —  Mazzini,  1833,  as  quoted  by  F.  W. 
Parker,  Talks  on  Pedagogics. 

"I  call,  therefore,  a  complete  and  generous  education,  that  which  fits  a 
man  to  perform  justly,  skilfully,  and  magnanimously  all  the  offices,  both 
private  and  public,  of  peace  and  war.  .  .  .  The  end,  then,  of  learning  is  to 
repair  the  ruins  of  our  first  parents  by  regaining  to  know  God  aright,  and 
out  of  that  knowledge  to  love  him,  to  imitate  him,  to  be  like  him,  as  we 
may  the  nearest  by  possessing  our  souls  of  true  virtue,  which,  being  united 
to  the  heavenly  grace  of  faith,  makes  up  the  highest  perfection.  But 
because  our  understanding  cannot  in  this  body  form  itself  but  on  sensible 
things,  nor  arrive  so  clearly  to  the  knowledge  of  God  and  things  invisible, 
as  by  orderly  conning  over  this  visible  and  inferior  custom,  the  same 
method  is  necessarily  to  be  followed  in  all  discreet  teaching.  And  see- 
ing every  nation  affords  not  experience  and  tradition  enough  for  all  kind 
of  learning,  therefore  we  are  chiefly  taught  the  languages  of  those  people 
who  have  at  any  time  been  most  industrious  after  wisdom;  So  that  lan- 
guage is  but  the  instrument  conveying  to  us  things  useful  to  be  known. 
And  though  a  linguist  should  pride  himself  to  have  all  the  tongues  that 
Babel  cleft  the  world  into,  yet  if  he  have  not  studied  the  solid  things  in 
them  as  well  as  the  words  and  lexicons,  he  were  nothing  so  much  to  be 
esteemed  a  learned  man,  as  any  yeoman  or  tradesman  competently  wise 
in  his  mother  dialect  only.  .  .  .  Learn  the  substance  of  good  things,  and 
parts  in  due  order."  ...  —  Milton,  Of  Education. 

228 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  229 

"  Man  am  I  grown,  a  man's  work  must  I  do. 
Follow  the  deer?  follow  the  Christ,  the  king, 
Live  pure,  speak  true,  right  wrong,  follow  the  King." 

—  Tennyson. 

/.  The  Institutions  of  Education.  — We  follow  the  method 
already  made  familiar  in  past  chapters:  the  method  of  ap- 
proaching the  soul  by  the  gate  of  bodily  appearances.  No 
man  ever  yet  discovered  a  soul  except  as  it  made  signs  to  us 
through  some  physical  medium.  Thoughts,  emotions,  pur- 
poses, are  interpreted  to  us  through  glances  of  the  eyes,  cord- 
ing of  the  brow,  lifting  of  the  hand  in  threat  or  promise, 
spoken  words,  written  messages,  of  papers  and  books.  The 
school  system  of  the  United  States  is  outwardly  a  vast  and  im- 
pressive physical  fact.  In  city  and  village,  "along  the  quiet 
waters,  in  niches  of  the  hill, "  by  boulevard  and  roadside,  in 
granite  and  marble,  or  in  logs  and  clay,  this  great  system 
finds  its  visible  homes,  its  material  embodiments. 

Imagine  the  army  of  teachers,  janitors,  superintendents, 
book  agents,  publishing  houses,  school  boards,  trustees,  com- 
mittees who  belong  to  this  complicated  institution.  Watch 
the  children  coming  home  from  school,  looking  in  at  all  sorts 
of  open  doors,  ready  for  all  kinds  of  enterprises.  Millions  of 
money  are  spent  on  the  building  of  edifices,  the  payment  of 
teachers,  and  all  the  other  expenses  of  the  system.  This  cost 
is  increasing  every  year,  with  growing  population  and  wealth. 
In  our  day  the  school  budget  is  one  of  the  largest  for  which 
city  authorities  must  provide.  Every  family  must  reckon  with 
the  cost  in  taxes  and  bills  for  books. 

In  addition  to  the  public  schools  there  are  many  parochial 
or  church  schools  and  many  private  establishments,  since  many 
of  our  citizens  exercise  the  freedom  of  the  land  in  paying  for 
the  style  of  goods  which  they  most  fancy,  even  if  it  is  already 
paid  for  by  the  public.  Often  this  additional  burden  is  the 
price  paid  to  keep  a  good  conscience  and  perform  what  is 
thought  to  be  parental  duty. 

There  are  many  state  and  private  colleges  and  universities 
in  which  education  may  be  carried  further  than  is  possible  in 
the  elementary  schools,  and  these  institutions  are  part  of  the 
national  means  of  instruction.     Through  lecture  courses  and 


230  Social  Elements 


classes  even  those  who  have  entered  their  callings  at  an  early 
age  are  often  enabled  to  continue  their  favorite  studies  far 
into  life. 

II.  This  Vast  and  Costly  System  is  the  Expression  of  the 
National  Estimate  of  the  Value  of  Education.  — In  a  general 
way  these  institutions  manifest  the  popular  conviction  as  to 
what  schools  should  aim  to  be.  After  making  sufficient  allow- 
ance for  the  limitation  of  financial  resources,  for  the  errors  of 
official  judgment,  and  the  defects  in  administration,  this  great 
institution  does  yet  tell  the  world  that  the  people  believe  in 
the  value  of  knowledge,  in  mental  development,  in  the  superi- 
ority of  intelligence,  and  in  the  formation  of  social  habits. 

In  a  nation  composed  of  so  many  millions  of  persons,  and 
these  of  all  shades  of  belief  and  grades  of  culture,  it  is  sur- 
prising that  there  should  be  such  a  universal,  cordial,  and 
progressive  support  of  free  public  schools.  Since  the  Civil 
War  the  South  has  joined  the  East,  the  North,  the  Middle,  and 
the  Western  states  in  providing  free  and  universal  means  of 
learning. 

It  is  not  claimed  by  the  best  friends  of  this  system  that  it 
is  perfect.  There  is  not  and  never  can  be  absolute  agreement 
in  details  as  to  the  courses  of  study  and  methods  of  instruction 
and  discipline.  Such  unanimity  is  not  possible  in  the  support 
of  any  general  measure,  and  it  is  not  desirable.  Entire  una- 
nimity would  mean  ossification  and  death.  A  ship  at  sea  is 
always  keeping  its  carpenters  and  engineers  busy  repairing  it; 
but  the  ship  does  not  stop  in  mid-ocean  merely  to  splice  a 
spar.  The  human  body  works  and  mends  its  bruises  and  le- 
sions while  it  lives,  and  by  living.  The  public  school  expresses 
great  common  convictions  shared  by  the  controlling  spirits  of 
the  people,  and  criticism  serves  merely  to  correct  errors  and 
improve  methods  of  an  institution  which,  even  as  it  is,  com- 
mands our  universal  admiration  and  loyal  support. 

A  people  can  form  an  opinion,  reach  an  agreement,  and 
vote  on  a  national  or  commonwealth  policy,  but  it  cannot 
vote  intelligently  on  a  system  of  administration  which  only  a 
corps  of  trained  professional  persons  can  carry  into  effect  in 
millions  of  details.  With  practical  unanimity,  after  bitter 
controversy,  long  opposition,  and  tentative  experiments,  the 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  231 

people  of  the  United  States  have  covenanted  to  establish  and 
maintain  a  free  school  for  every  child  in  the  land.  That  of 
itself  is  a  conception  so  vast  and  sublime  that  it  is  enough  to 
unite  and  ennoble  a  nation. 

III.  What  Society  has  a  Right  to  ask  from  its  Schools.  — 
The  student  of  social  welfare  formulates  social  needs  and  looks 
about  for  the  appropriate  organ  by  which  the  need  can  best 
be  supplied.  He  does  not  dictate  the  policy  of  the  institu- 
tion, but  calls  upon  it  for  a  service.  Those  who  have  special- 
ized training  and  skill  are  the  proper  persons  to  carry  out  the 
measures  and  perfect  the  agencies.  Society  assigns  the  cure 
of  disease  and  the  direction  of  sanitation  to  physicians;  the 
formulation  of  laws  to  jurists;  the  leadership  of  the  church  to 
theologians  and  pastors;  the  management  of  finance  to  bankers; 
the  care  of  trains  to  a  hierarchy  of  railroad  men,  experts  in 
their  way.  Society  knows  fairly  well  what  it  wants,  and  it 
learns  to  assign  particular  tasks  to  different  bodies  of  servants. 
Thus  the  task  of  education,  in  all  its  details,  falls  to  the 
teaching  profession.  It  is  the  social  function  of  this  profes- 
sion to  study  the  nature  of  the  human  soul;  to  understand  its 
interests,  modes  of  development,  and  methods  of  helping  it 
to  realize  its  own  inherent  powers. 

This  chapter  will  not  trespass  on  the  ground  of  the  teaching 
profession,  save  to  borrow  a  few  illustrations,  with  the  kind 
permission  of  the  specialists.  We  have  to  do  here  with  the 
attitude  of  the  good  average  citizen  and  tax-payer  who  wishes 
well  to  his  country  and  wants  to  get  all  he  can  for  his  money; 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  parent,  who  loves  his  children  and 
desires  to  have  them  enjoy  the  services  of  artists  rather  than 
of  bungling  hirelings;  from  the  standpoint  of  the  sociologist, 
who  surveys  the  various  institutions  which  make  up  the  re- 
sources of  the  civilizing  process,  and  discovers  that  if  the  pub- 
lic school  fail,  the  entire  structure  must  become  a  crumbling 
ruin.  Perhaps  the  teacher  thus  questioned  and  stimulated 
from  without  will  see  somewhat  more  clearly,  and  feel  a  little 
more  deeply,  the  solemn  grandeur  of  his  task  and  the  immen- 
sity of  the  interests  which  depend  upon  his  efficiency. 

Society  asks  of  its  schools  that  they  should  assist  each  citi- 
zen to  live  his  best  life,  in  all  that  makes  a  truly  human  life. 


232  Social  Elements 


In  the  chapter  on  the  Individual  we  have  endeavored  to  indi- 
cate what  this  implies. 

The  teacher  and  the  social  student  meet  upon  the  same 
ground  and  traverse  the  same  field.  This  is  natural  and  in- 
evitable, because  society  is  all  about  the  schoolhouse  and 
comes  to  its  very  door.  Parents  and  statesmen,  employers 
and  artists,  are  urging  upon  the  school  the  claims  of  civil  life 
and  asking  for  help. 

Society  has  for  its  end  the  development  of  personality,  the 
attainment  of  ideal  freedom.  It  is  great  only  as  its  members 
are  developed.  Social  life  is  the  sum  of  cooperating  persons, 
and  all  that  society  is  must  be  found  in  its  persons  and  no- 
where else.  There  is  not  and  cannot  be  any  real  difference 
I  of  interest  between  society  and  its  component  parts.  There- 
fore, social  welfare  requires  the  largest  possible  enrichment 
of  the  mental  and  moral  being  of  all.  In  the  school  is  found 
the  most  universal  and  direct  agency  of  society  for  developing 
personal  quality.  This  end  is  not  to  be  compassed  in  a 
phrase,  in  a  verbal  abstraction. 

It  requires  all  philosophies  to  unfold  the  infinite  meaning 
of  the  human  spirit;  all  poetry  to  image  the  rich  and  mani- 
fold contents  of  life  in  its  experiences  and  its  aspirations;  all 
churches  to  voice  its  wonder  and  reverence;  all  industries  and 
arts  to  embody  its  inventions;  all  literature  to  express  in  fic- 
tion and  noble  prose  the  revelations  of  the  boundless  divinity 
in  man;  all  history  of  all  nations  to  display  as  in  one  con- 
nected and  endless  panorama  the  procession  of  ever-growing 
souls;  all  life  to  hint  at  the  possibilities  which  await  us.  The 
teacher  must  be  a  student  of  these  various  forms  of  expression. 
The  personal  and  social  ideal  as  stated  in  text-books  of  psy- 
chology or  ethics  is  apt  to  be  devoid  of  interest,  a  ghost,  per- 
haps a  skeleton.  Science  represents  only  the  framework  of 
this  inner  world,  and  reduces  all  to  hard  and  juiceless  for- 
mulas of  speech.  This  is  suitable  to  the  "dry  light  "  of  exact 
and  solid  science.  But  the  inspirer  of  the  soul  must  also  have 
help  from  poet  and  orator,  musician  and  artist,  in  order  not 
only  to  understand  but  to  personally  share  the  abounding  and 
exuberant  life  of  the  human  species.  For  great  books  of  the 
master  minds  there  is  no  substitute,  and  the  school  should 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  233 


A 


ever  keep  before  the  pupils  the  choicest  literary  products  of 
all  ages. 

Take  a-  few  of  the  philosophical  statements  of  the  end  of 
life  and  teaching,  and  it  will  be  seen  how  these  abstractions, 
accurate  and  deep  though  they  are,  need  the  fresh  pictures  of 
literature  to  give  them  inspiring  quality. 

"An  end  to  serve  as  a  standard  must  be  a  comprehensive 
end  for  all  acts  of  an  individual,  and  an  end  comprehending 
the  activities  of  various  individuals  —  a  common  good.  The 
moral  end  must  be  that  for  the  sake  of  which  all  conduct 
occurs — the  organizing  principle  of  conduct  —  a  totality,  a 
system.  The  moral  end  must  also  include  the  ends  of  the 
various  agents  who  make  up  society.  It  must  be  capable  of 
constituting  a  social  system  out  of  the  acts  of  various  agents, 
as  well  as  an  individual  system  out  of  the  various  acts  of  one 
agent;  or,  more  simply,  the  moral  end  must  be  not  only  the 
good  for  all  the  particular  acts  of  the  individual,  but  must  be 
a  common  good  —  a  good  which  in  satisfying  one  satisfies 
others."1 

"The  fundamental  necessities  of  life  constitute  ends  than 
which  none  worthier  can  be  conceived,  or  made  the  objects 
of  education."  These  ends  are  explained  to  be  health,  knowl- 
edge, adaptation  to  social  intercourse.  "Every  child  is  born 
into  some  social  environment,  and  is  therefore  a  member  of 
some  social  whole.  A  recognition  of  this  fact,  an  understand- 
ing of  what  it  involves  of  personal  right  and  personal  service, 
a  feeling  of  what  social  life  is,  and  what  social  ostracism  or 
social  suicide  means  to  the  individual  and  to  the  social  whole 
—  these  are  necessary  to  an  intelligent  preservation  of,  and 
an  effort  to  perfect,  the  social  aspect  of  being  as  an  end  of 
human  existence."2 

Mastery  of  Nature.  — Society,  having  charged  itself,  in  the 
last  resort,  with  the  care  of  all  its  citizens,  is  interested  in 
having  them  able  to  help  themselves  in  contact  with  nature. 
The  ignorant  and  unskilful  man  cannot  protect  himself 
against  the  destructive  agencies  of  the  external  world.  Its 
miasmas,  its  dangerous  gas,  its  venomous  serpents,  its  poison 

1  J.  Dewey,  Outlines  of  Ethics,  p.  31. 

2  Alling-Aber,  An  Experiment  in  Education,  pp.  83-95. 


234  Social  Elements 


ivy  and  deadly  mushrooms,  its  microscopic  bacteria,  and  all 
the  swarming,  flying,  creeping,  insinuating  foes  of  health  and 
strength  find  easy  victims  in  the  untaught  and  undisciplined. 

But  the  mastery  of  nature  through  science  and  skill  is  more 
than  protective;  it  makes  utilization  of  matter  and  force  pos- 
sible. The  vast  majority  of  men  have  capacity  enough  to 
wrest  from  the  surrounding  earth  all  they  require  to  support 
themselves  and  their  families,  if  only  they  know  how  to  em- 
ploy available  means  to  the  best  advantage.  Utilization  im- 
plies more  than  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  chemistry  and  physics, 
of  the  laws  of  plant  and  animal  life;  it  requires  some  practical 
training  in  the  direction  of  these  elements  to  the  supply  of 
human  wants. 

The  process  of  acquiring  such  necessary  knowledge  and 
skill  expands  the  faculties  of  the  mind,  gives  each  man  greater 
command  of  himself.  It  is  essential  not  only  to  give  citizens 
a  knowledge  of  certain  facts,  but  the  power  to  learn  other 
facts  as  they  arise  in  experience,  and  to  understand  them  and 
make  personal  adjustments  to  them. 

Nature  studies  have  a  value  in  making  more  perfect  beings. 
Where  science  is  pursued  by  right  methods  the  memory  is 
crowded  with  delightful  images.  Two  educational  interests 
are  thus  served,  taste  or  appreciation  of  beautiful  objects  is 
cultivated,  and  the  creative  activities  are  brought  into  use. 
Under  the  microscope  colors  and  forms  and  wondrous  combi- 
nations are  discovered  by  the  eye,  and  through  drawing  and 
color  painting  kept  on  record.  Artistic  power  is  thus  evoked. 
New  sources  of  rational  satisfaction  are  awakened. 

Nature  studies,  rightly  conducted  by  competent  teachers, 
awaken  in  the  mind  convictions  that  this  is  an  orderly  world, 
in  which  law,  order,  system,  are  at  the  basis  of  all  things,  and 
discoverable  by  the  patient  student. 

The  careful  and  well-directed  study  of  nature  trains  the 
mind  to  love  of  truth  for  its  own  sake;  makes  exactness  of 
seeing  and  saying  a  habit;  and  gives  valuable  discipline  in 
mental  honesty,  veracity,  and  cooperation  with  others.  The 
art  of  truth-telling  is  based  on  the  difficult  science  of  truth- 
knowing.     "Easy  as  lying,"  is  a  proverb. 

Without  intending  it,  such  studies  gradually  build  up  in  the 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  235 

mind  a  conviction  as  to  the  unity,  order,  fidelity,  rationality, 
and  goodness  which  command  matter  and  rule  force.  The 
mystery  of  life,  manifesting  itself  under  the  eye,  compels  re- 
flection on  the  spiritual  significance  of  things.  This  result  is 
not  far  away  from  religion. 

Society  desires  that  each  citizen  should  be  taught  and  disci- 
plined to  make  some  contribution  to  progress,  to  discovery  of 
new  facts  and  truths,  and  to  useful  invention  or  the  creation  of 
worthy  and  beautiful  objects.  Out  of  a  sense  of  indebtedness 
to  the  past  will  grow  a  desire  to  improve  the  future.  It  is 
possible  to  make  of  every  human  being  an  inventor  and  dis- 
coverer. Every  child  is  a  creative  being  unless  he  is  actually 
discouraged  and  repressed.  Old  knowledge  can  be  acquired 
by  such  a  method,  and  in  such  a  spirit  of  investigation,  that 
intellectual  curiosity  will  become  habitual.  When  all  the 
members  of  society  are  thus  alert  and  keen  to  observe  and 
probe,  science  will  advance  far  more  rapidly  than  at  present, 
when  only  a  few  are  seeking  new  knowledge.  Thus,  also,  old 
arts  and  ways  may  be  so  taught  that  the  students  will  become 
habitually  artists,  designers,  inventors.  It  is  wonderful  how 
many  valuable  designs  are  produced  by  mere  children  and 
artisans  of  only  average  capacity  when  they  are  wisely  taught. 
Society  asks  that  its  schools  so  instruct  its  future  citizens  that 
the  world  may  be  better  for  every  life. 

But  the  environment  in  which  citizens  are  living,  and  are 
to  live,  is  not  merely  the  physical  world  about  us.  Physical 
science  is  not  the  only  science  which  deals  with  reality. 
Unless  we  actually  identify  physiology  and  psychology,  matter 
and  mind,  and  beg  the  whole  question  for  materialism,  there 
is  still  nearer  to  us  than  nature  a  world  of  spirits,  of  thinking 
beings.  It  is  the  thoughts,  feelings,  volitions,  whims,  hero- 
isms, beliefs,  prejudices,  and  desires  of  our  fellow-men  which 
most  sharply  affect  us.  There  is  not  only  an  astronomical  and 
chemical  order,  but  there  is  a  social  order.  The  observance 
of  this  order  by  all  citizens  is  indispensable  to  their  happiness 
and  growth  and  prosperity.  Here  again  both  knowledge  and 
discipline  are  necessary,  since  many  persons  know  very  well 
what  they  should  do  but  are  not  trained  in  habits  suitable  to 
community  life.     We  have  been  studying  the  various  elements 


236  Social  Elements 


of  this  social  order;  the  modes  of  human  association  and 
cooperation;  the  customs  and  laws  and  beliefs  in  respect  to 
family,  neighborhood,  industry,  and  friendly  intercourse  which 
regulate  conduct.  The  supreme  expression  of  this  order  is 
found  in  the  state,  its  laws  and  its  administration.  Certainly 
it  is  socially  desirable  that  citizens  should  know  what  society 
expects  of  them.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  show  how  all  suffer 
when  a  person  is  ignorant  of  his  legal  rights  or  duties  and  is 
swindled  by  those  more  shrewd  and  intelligent.  If  we  are  to 
have  obedience  to  law,  we  must  have  universal  knowledge  of 
law  in  its  principles  and  of  the  institutions  through  which  it 
is  administered. 

Society  cannot  hold  together  without  a  sense  of  obligation 
on  the  part  of  each  individual.  The  school  is  called  upon, 
in  the  interest  of  order,  to  create  reverence  for  all  that  makes 
our  present  lives  rich,  happy,  and  hopeful.  In  all  possible 
ways  it  is  desirable  to  show  children  and  youth  how  much  they 
are  indebted  to  their  forefathers  and  to  their  contemporaries. 
This  recognition  of  debt  to  others  is  a  basis  of  morality. 

It  is  proper  to  expect  from  the  schools  that  they  will  so  teach 
and  train  the  children  that  in  them  will  grow  up  a  sentiment 
and  habit  of  thought  favorable  to  socialization.  The  good 
citizen  will  have  reverence  for  the  benefactors  of  the  country 
in  the  past,  a  strong  sense  of  obligation  to  his  contemporaries, 
and  a  willingness  to  make  sacrifices  for  his  town  and  for  his 
land.  The  school  is  under  obligation  to  foster  these  ele- 
ments of  good  citizenship. 

President  Eliot  gives  a  hint  as  to  one  practical  method  of 
enforcing  the  conviction  of  social  dependence :  — 

"  Another  mode  of  implanting  this  sentiment  is  to  trace  in  history  the 
obligations  of  the  present  generation  to  many  former  generations.  These 
obligations  can  be  easily  pointed  out  in  things  material,  such  as  highways, 
water-works,  fences,  houses,  and  barns,  and,  in  New  England  at  least,  the 
stone  walls  and  piles  of  stone  gathered  from  the  arable  fields  by  the  patient 
labor  of  predecessors  on  the  family  farm ;  but  it  may  also  be  exhibited  to 
the  pupils  of  secondary  schools,  and  in  some  measure  to  the  pupils  of  ele- 
mentary schools,  in  the  burdens  and  sufferings  which  former  generations 
have  borne  for  the  establishment  of  freedom  of  conscience  and  of  speech, 
and  of  toleration  in  religion  and  for  the  development  of  the  institutions 
of  public  justice. 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  237 

"  By  merely  teaching  children  whence  comes  their  food,  drink,  clothing 
and  means  of  getting  light  and  heat,  and  how  these  materials  are  supplied 
through  the  labors  of  many  individuals  of  many  races  scattered  all  over  the 
world,  the  school  may  illustrate  and  enforce  this  doctrine  of  intricate  inter- 
dependence, which  really  underlies  modern  democracy  —  a  doctrine  never 
more  clearly  expressed  than  in  these  two  Christian  sentences,  'No  man 
liveth  to  himself,'  and  '  We  are  every  one  members  one  of  another.'  The 
dependence  of  every  family,  and  indeed  every  person,  on  the  habitual 
fidelity  of  mechanics,  purveyors,  railroad  servants,  corps,  and  nurses  can 
easily  be  brought  home  to  children." 

The  ends  of  society  should  be  made  a  part  of  the  conscious 
aims  of  the  child. 

"  It  may  be  presumed  that  the  more  conscious  he  is  of  these  ends,  the 
more  perfectly  he  will  adapt  to  them  the  means  which  come  to  his  hand. 
At  present  the  educational  means  of  bringing  these  ends  to  consciousness 
as  ends  are  mostly  reserved  for  the  higher  institutions  of  learning,  and 
even  then  they  are  not  adequate.  If  they  be  true  fundamental  ends 
of  human  learning,  every  child,  in  his  measure,  has  a  right  to  them;  and 
the  primal  duty  of  education  is  to  bring  them  to  consciousness  in  every 
child.  .  .  .  These  ends  are  worthy  ones,  whose  pursuit  makes  of  living  an 
art,  desirable  for  its  own  sake ;  and  this  being  true,  these  ends  become  the 
guiding  lines  for  all  educational  processes,  —  an  aid  to  the  determination 
of  all  subject-matter  to  be  taught,  and  of  all  methods  to  be  used  in  teaching 
that  subject-matter."  * 

One  aspect  of  the  ends  of  education  is  sometimes  expressed 
by  the  assertion  that  the  school  should  fit  youth  for  the  social 
environment.  But  the  saying  must  not  be  accepted  without 
an  understanding  of  the  meaning. 

Environment  means  more  than  society,  and  that  in  two  di- 
rections. Part  of  our  environment  is  the  physical  world  and 
its  materials  and  forces.  The  spirit  also  is  believed  to  live 
in  the  Father,  in  the  world  of  religion  which  transcends  human 
society  though  in  it.  If  "social  environment"  is  meant  to 
include  these  lower  and  higher  elements,  it  may  be  accepted. 

"Environment"  is  sometimes  taken  to  mean  something 
fixed  and  stable;  but  education  really  prepares  us  to  outgrow 
the  present  fixed  conditions,  to  draw  upon  the  unrealized,  to 
invent,  protest,  reform,  and  advance.  If  this  growing  factor 
is  implied  in  the  definition,  we  may  remove  objection. 

1  An  Experimetit  in  Education,  p.  103. 


238  Social  Elements 


"  Environment "  may  be  taken  to  mean  something  merely 
external  to  the  person.  But  education  develops  personality 
within,  and  does  not  rest  with  making  the  man  a  convenient 
tool  and  means  of  others.  If  the  definition  of  environment 
carries  the  idea  that  the  person  is  himself  a  social  being,  who 
realizes  himself  in  social  service  and  cooperation,  this  diffi- 
culty is  removed. 

Then  we  must  not  confine  the  word  "  environment "  to  the 
workshop  and  the  vocation.  Education  does  not  stop  with 
teaching  a  special  craft,  but  leads  to  the  fulness  of  life. 
Education  is  more  than  the  training  of  blacksmiths,  weavers, 
preachers,  doctors,  and  actors;  it  is  the  development  of  men. 

The  demand  for  teaching  social  relations  is  recognized  by 
leading  educators  everywhere. 

"  No  one  lives  to  adult  years  in  however  favorable  conditions  without 
having  felt  the  influence  of  these  differentiated  groups  upon  his  life  — 
now  furthering,  now  hindering  his  purposes;  making  his  path  broad  and 
inviting,  or  duty  paved  and  forbidding;  elsewhere  and  again  setting  up 
insurmountable  barriers. 

"  The  great  questions  of  the  day  are  social  questions  belonging  to  this 
group  of  relations.  The  education  of  youth,  compulsory  school  attendance, 
the  higher  culture  of  women  and  girls,  the  economic  and  moral  rights  of 
children,  the  existence  and  public  treatment  of  a  large  leisure  class  both 
among  the  well-to-do  and  the  needy,  the  conflicting  rights  and  respon- 
sibilities of  the  employing  and  employed  classes,  the  public  care  of  the 
defectives  and  dependents,  public  manners  and  morals,  the  policing  of  high- 
ways and  places  of  general  resort,  the  punishment  of  criminals,  their  re- 
form and  nurturing,  the  prevention  of  crime,  the  community  and  institutional 
responsibility  for  crime,  and  the  movements  toward  making  universal  or 
common  the  culture  and  skill  and  foresight  which  are  now  the  posses- 
sion of  experts  only :  these  are  at  once  the  great  questions  of  the  pulpit, 
the  press,  and  the  platform,  and  the  vital  school  question."  l 

IV.  What  Knowledge  is  of  Most  Worth  ?  —  What  teacher 
or  parent  has  not  asked  that  question?  A  visit  to  a  library, 
or  the  study  of  a  college  curriculum,  or  a  glance  at  the  columns 
of  magazines  and  newspapers  with  their  wealth  of  subjects, 
must  raise  the  inquiry  in  every  thoughtful  mind.  In  the  vast 
accumulation  of   books  and  other  expressions  of  knowledge 

1  President  R.  G.  Boone,  State  Normal  School  of  Michigan,  in  the  University 
Record,  Feb.  25,  1898. 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  239 

we  stand  aghast,  wondering,  overwhelmed.  Yet  we  must 
choose,  we  must  select,  and  we  desire  to  secure  some  prin- 
ciple of  selection.  We  have  already  tried  to  show  that  all 
forms  of  knowledge  are  desirable;  but  some  kinds  are  more 
valuable  than  others  and  should  be  given  more  emphasis. 
The  survey  of  social  interests  already  outlined  may  assist  in 
making  the  choice.  Something  must  be  deferred,  but  life  is 
on  us.  That  cannot  be  deferred.  How  to  live  a  human  life, 
to  resist  the  deadly  forces  andjutilize  the  powers  of  nature,  to 
cooperate  with  our  fellows  in  orderly  ways,  and  to  advance 
human  welfare  to  a  higher  point, —  these  are  matters  that  must 
not  be  postponed.  For  meeting  these  needs  we  must  have 
knowledge  of  certain  facts  and  laws.  We  are  ignorant  at  our 
peril;  if  we  are  untrained  and  helpless,  it  is  to  the  injury  of 
our  fellows.  The  principle  of  selection  of  studies  according 
to  their  relative  worth  and  importance  is  given  in  the  study  of 
society,  its  modes  of  being,  its  problems,  its  wants. 
Social  ideals  must  be  ever  held  above  transient  means. 

"  Men  who  might 
Do  greatly  in  a  universe  that  breaks 
And  burns,  must  ever  know  before  they  do. 
Courage  and  patience  are  but  sacrifice; 
A  sacrifice  is  offered  for  and  to 
Something  conceived  of.     Each  man  pays  a  price 
For  what  himself  counts  precious,  whether  true 
Or  false  the  appreciation  it  implies. 

Who  blames 
A  crooked  course,  when  not  a  goal  is  in  them 
To  round  the  fervid  striving  of  the  games? 
An  ignorance  of  means  may  minister 
To  greatness,  but  an  ignorance  of  aims 
Makes  it  impossible  to  be  great  at  all."  l 

V.  The  Order  of  Studies  and  Arrangement  of  Program;/.'  's 
and  Courses. — The  survey  of  social  expectations  will  throw- 
light  on  another  educational  question  which  has  long  disturbed 
teachers  and  programme-makers :  What  is  the  true  order  of 
studies?  Into  the  controversial  and  disputed  points  it  is  not 
necessary  to  enter.     Nature,  man,  society,  are  here,  pressing 

1  E.  B.  Browning,  Qua  Guidi  Windows,  IT. 


240  Social  Elements 


daily  upon  us.  Literature,  art,  worship,  are  lifting  up  before 
us  daily  the  light  which  beckons  onward.  Every  day  each 
human  being,  from  cradle  to  grave,  is  beset  by  this  environ- 
ment. Daily  does  experience  widen  the  circle  of  knowledge 
and  push  back  the  bounding  horizon  of  vision.  The  question 
is  answered  clearly  by  the  duty  of  every  hour,  by  the  fact  of 
the  unity  of  nature  and  life  in  one  environment.  Sitting  at 
the  dining-table  every  bite  brings  up  a  chemical  problem,  a 
question  of  physical  properties  and  values.  One  cannot  lift 
his  fork  to  his  mouth  without  observing  or  trampling  upon  a 
rule  of  etiquette.  The  very  plates  suggest  art.  Life  cannot 
be  cut  up  into  artificial  sections  and  taken  point  by  point. 
It  is  all  down  upon  us  at  once,  in  the  fulness  and  largeness  of 
its  meaning.  The  school,  which  is  initial  society,  and  not  a 
mere  preparation  for  future  life,  must  confront  all  the  world 
at  once.  In  the  nursery  the  mother  runs  around  the  whole 
circle  of  the  world  with  the  omnivorous  infant;  and  she  is 
teaching  chemistry,  physics,  arithmetic,  geometry,  botany, 
zoology,  astronomy,  poetry,  music,  all  the  day  to  her  little 
brood.  In  the  universities  there  are  no  longer  universal 
scholars;  it  is  an  extinct  species  in  the  realm  of  the  learned. 
But  the  mother  is  a  universal  genius,  because  she  is  companion 
of  a  human  being  who  claims  the  earth,  the  moon,  the  stars, 
and  all  that  is  in  reach  of  hand  or  eye  or  mouth.  And  the 
primary  teacher  is  simply  in  the  next  stage  of  the  process, 
specializing  to  some  extent,  but  still  the  companion  of  the 
young  poets  who  glance  from  earth  to  heaven,  from  heaven  to 
earth,  and  whose  possibilities  are  limitless.  The  diameter  of 
the  circle  in  the  elementary  and  secondary  school  is  somewhat 
longer,  and  the  circumference  more  extended,  but  still  teachers 
must  go  around  that  range  of  nature,  man,  and  the  laws  which 
these  reveal. 

The  selection  of  reading  matter,  pictures,  casts,  music,  noble 
prose,  is  one  of  the  most  delicate  duties  of  the  parent  and  of 
school  authorities.  Fortunately,  the  literature  intelligible  and 
interesting  to  the  young  is  rapidly  growing,  and  is  already  very 
large  and  valuable.  The  material  must  be  graded  rather  ac- 
cording to  individual  tastes  and  development  than  according 
to  age. 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  241 

Each  day  is  a  complete  chapter  of  life  and  should  have  its 
full  rights.  From  infancy  to  the  transition  from  adolescence, 
life  should  be  presented  constantly  in  its  integrity,  as  a  whole 
and  not  as  a  chaotic  mass  of  unrelated  experiences.  Goethe 
declared  that  every  man  should  have  before  him  each  day  a 
beautiful  statue  and  picture,  hear  a  little  good  music,  and 
speak  one  bright  sentence.  Bacon  declared  that  reading 
makes  a  full  man,  conversation  a  ready  man,  and  writing  an 
exact  man.  There  is  no  reason  why  any  person  should  not 
be  full,  ready,  and  exact.  Life  will  be  what  is  presented  to 
the  young  soul  and  wrought  into  its  very  fibre  by  habitual 
action.  Parents  and  teachers  have  this  problem  of  presenta- 
tions before  them  for  a  daily  task.  A  child  has  little  power 
of  discrimination.  He  is  omnivorous  and  not  at  all  fastidious. 
If  the  matter  presented  is  interesting,  he  will  take  it  down  with 
relish,  but  he  is  like  those  game  fish  which  will  bite  only  at 
"live  bait."  He  will  rise  only  to  what  is  moving,  active, 
forceful,  and  that  he  will  devour  without  waiting  to  taste  it. 
Subsequent  life  will  reproduce  just  what  is  stored  away  in 
memory,  be  it  evil  and  debasing  or  sublime  and  inspiring. 

It  is  entirely  practicable  for  teachers  and  parents,  during 
the  period  of  childhood  and  early  youth,  to  present  some  sig- 
nificant portion  of  life  every  day  to  every  child.  In  the 
chapter  on  nature  the  value  of  the  physical  sciences  has  been 
discussed.  It  is  here  insisted  that  some  aspect  of  the  external 
world  can  be  and  should  be  directly  brought  to  the  attention 
of  child  or  youth  every  day. 

Thus  also  each  day  some  connected  portion  of  the  actions 
and  works  of  mankind  should  be  surveyed. 

We  have  seen  the  function  of  art  in  general  and  the  limita- 
tions and  specific  values  of  each  particular  art.  Music  should 
be  heard  and  produced,  as  an  expression  of  fellowship  and 
aspiration,  by  every  human  being  every  day.  It  is  entirely 
possible  both  at  work  and  play,  and  the  homes  and  schools 
and  churches  should  make  it  a  national  custom.  Much  of  the 
toil  of  sailors,  farmers,  laborers,  drivers,  and  other  workers  is 
even  assisted  by  a  song.  Hours  of  leisure  should  often  be 
filled  with  delightful,  cheerful,  and  noble  choruses. 

From   earliest  childhood  pupils  should  be  accustomed  to 

R 


242  Social  Elements 


rhythmic  action  in  concert  with  others,  with  or  without 
musical  accompaniment.  Some  parents  will  have  objections 
to  teaching  dancing,  but  none  will  object  to  calisthenic  exer- 
cises, motion  songs,  marching  movements,  by  which  action  is 
socialized.  Immorality  is  selfish  and  inharmonious,  unsocial 
conduct;  and  one  cure  of  it  is  unselfish  and  cooperative  action 
made  habitual  and  customary.  The  meaning  will  be  felt  by 
the  child  and  interpreted  later  in  life,  when  reflection  begins. 
The  words  of  the  songs  which  accompany  the  rhythmic  action 
may  suggest  the  thought  which  the  play  symbolizes.  The 
words  of  affection  tend  to  awaken  affection. 

Poetry  should  form  an  element  in  daily  habit,  a  part  of 
social  custom  in  home,  school,  and  church.  It  should  be  the 
duty  of  each  member  of  each  family  to  contribute  some  per- 
fect expression  of  fine  thought  at  the  table,  so  that  the  act  of 
eating  shall  be  associated  in  thought  with  the  highest  ideals 
of  the  race.  This  is  one  point  in  favor  of  free  dinners,  nicely 
served,  at  school.  Out  of  the  stores  of  memory  each  member 
of  the  school  should  be  required  to  bring  at  regular  and  fre- 
quent intervals  some  "quoted  ode  or  jewel  five  words  long" 
for  the  common  pleasure.  Thus  also  passages  of  perfect  prose, 
worthy  expression  of  some  master  of  the  race,  should  be  read 
and  recited,  not  merely  as  a  means  of  training  the  facial  mus- 
cles, but  to  give  social  pleasure  of  the  first  order.  On  the 
walls  of  all  homes  and  schools  and  Sunday  Schools  should  be 
hung  copies  of  the  works  of  great  artists,  photographs,  and 
plaster  casts,  so  that  the  eye,  even  in  its  casual  wanderings 
and  turns  of  resting,  should  alight  upon  an  object  of  beauty. 
All  the  designing  and  artistic  gifts  of  school  and  home  should 
be  called  upon  to  make  blackboards  beautiful  with  color  and 
graceful  forms.  If  without  the  sky  and  clouds  and  landscape 
are  beautiful,  the  teacher  can  call  attention  to  the  glorious 
display.  Even  in  the  gloomy  and  narrow  streets  of  crowded 
cities  the  desk  of  the  teachers  and  the  sill  of  the  window  may 
shine  with  flowers.  All  the  better  if  trips  to  the  open  country 
enable  the  teacher  to  develop  the  taste  of  the  pupils  for  natural 
beauty. 

Conduct  itself  may  be  made  a  fine  art.  The  ordinary  routine 
of  home  and  school  may  be  so  cheerful,  systematic,  harmoni- 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  243 


ous,  as  to  be  a  discipline  in  moral  conduct.  By  a  moderate 
exercise  of  invention  the  educator  of  childhood  may  find  ways 
of  training  the  young  to  think  of  the  needs  and  interests,  the 
feelings  and  desires,  of  those  outside  their  circle  of  house  and 
playground,  and  introduce  them,  with  thoughts  and  purposes 
of  good,  to  the  wide,  wide  world. 

Professor  G.  E.  Vincent1  has  made  an  admirable  study  of 
the  scheme  of  study  for  a  college  course  based  on  the  social 
demands  of  the  age;  and  from  this  recent  investigation  we 
may  here  profit. 

It  is  true  that  a  formal  course  of  study  for  a  college  is 
adapted  to  those  who  are  mature  enough  to  consciously  and 
intentionally  seek  an  integration  or  correlation  of  the  different 
matters  of  knowledge  and  of  practice.  At  this  advanced  stage 
of  culture,  it  is  proper  to  follow  out  special  lines  of  investiga- 
tion according  to  the  division  of  labor  used  in  the  world  of 
science  and  literature.  Thus  in  college  it  is  desirable  to  make 
a  special  class  for  chemistry,  for  botany,  or  for  civil  govern- 
ment. The  mature  teacher  or  parent  may  look  forward  to  this 
scheme  and  catch  some  prophetic  hints  of  the  direction  in 
which  it  will  be  wise  to  direct  and  encourage  even  the  child 
in  the  kindergarten.  For  the  baby  faces  toward  the  university, 
or  rather  to  that  noble  life  which  the  university  serves,  from 
the  moment  it  opens  its  eyes  to  the  light.  "I  have  urged," 
says  one  of  the  inventive  and  inspiring  teachers  of  our  land, 
"that  all  subjects  taught  in  any  university  shall  be  begun  in 
an  elementary  way  with  the  little  child  of  six  years  of  age,  and 
that  exercises  in  all  the  modes  of  expression  shall  be  continued 
or  imitated."  2 

If  we  divide  the  "studies"  into  four  main  classes,  we  have 
a  tentative  and  suggestive  arrangement  something  like  the 
following  scheme,  which  shows  the  outline  of  college  work  and 
the  connection  of  one  topic  with  the  others: 

(a)  Formal  and  instrumental  studies, —  mathematics  and 
language;  the  famous  "Three  R's,"  reading,  writing,  arith- 
metic, being  examples.  These  are  not  to  be  learned  merely 
for  their  own  sake  and  before  anything  else  is  learned,  but  in 

1  The  Social  Mind  and  Education,  p.  126. 

2  F.  W.  Parker,  Talks  on  Pedagogics,  p.  388. 


244  Social  Elements 


the  process  of  learning  something  felt  to  be  desirable  for  its 
own  sake,  and  as  means  of  expression.  It  is  not  here  implied 
that  "formal"  studies  have  no  intrinsic  value  and  interest. 

(b)  The  physical  conditions  of  social  life, —  nature  studies, 
(i)  The  sciences  of  the  inorganic, —  physics,  chemistry, 
astronomy.  (2)  The  sciences  of  the  organic,  of  life, —  biol- 
ogy, botany,  zoology.     (3)  Physical  geography. 

(c)  The  human  person.  (1)  Physiology, — closely  connected 
with  the  life  sciences  and  geography.  (2)  Psychology. 
(3)  Ideals, —  art,  literature  (as  a  form  of  art),  biography, 
ethics,  religion. 

(d)  Men  in  society.  (1)  Domestic  institutions.  (2)  The 
arts.  (3)  Industry  and  business  (economics).  (4)  Politics 
(civil  government)  and  law.  (5)  Literature  (as  one  expression 
of  historical  growth).  (6)  History.  (7)  Sociology  and  social 
ethics. 

Specialization.  — There  is  indeed  a  necessity  for  specializa- 
tion, if  we  heed  the  lesson  of  social  life.  Specialization 
is  necessary  for  an  educational  reason,  and  also  for  a  social 
reason.  The  interests  of  education  require  that  each  person 
learn  one  thing  so  thoroughly  that  he  will  ever  have  in 
his  mind  a  high  and  critical  standard  of  perfect  work.  The 
social  reason  is  that  we  must  learn  to  trust  experts  and  to 
respect  them,  if  they  are  competent.  These  lessons  must  be 
impressed  in  school  during  the  plastic  years. 

One  important  cause  of  popular  opposition  to  "civil-service 
reform  "  in  our  country  lies  in  the  fact  that  our  education  has 
not  sufficiently  taught  the  people  to  respect  specialists.  We 
think  any  person  can  soon  learn  to  do  anything  just  as  well  as 
another.  Why  should  a  man  not  pass  at  once  from  being  an 
engineer  to  be  statistician  of  the  city  or  commonwealth? 
Why  should  we  not  elect  a  person  skilful  in  managing  pri- 
maries to  be  postmaster?  Why  should  not  a  successful  distiller 
become  superintendent  of  an  asylum  for  the  insane?  Perhaps 
in  coming  years,  when  our  schools  have  been  careful  to  require 
each  child  to  learn  some  particular  thing  thoroughly,  whatever 
else  is  done  superficially,  we  shall  have  a  citizenship  with  more 
exacting  demands  upon  public  servants. 

There  is  nothing  inconsistent  in  giving  pupils  a  broad  cul- 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  245 


ture  while  we  give  them  at  the  same  time  discipline  in  some 
one  subject  until  perfection  is  attained.  It  is  one  advantage 
of  the  sloyd  and  manual  training  methods  that  accuracy  and 
finish  can  be  at  once  tested  and  measured  at  every  step  by  the 
child  himself.  A  boy  who  has  failed  twenty  times  in  trying 
to  fashion  a  perfect  foot  rule  out  of  a  bit  of  box  wood,  and  at 
last  reaches  the  moment  of  triumph  with  his  masterpiece,  has 
a  lesson  in  absolute  standards  of  veracity,  justice,  sound  learn- 
ing, and  thoroughness  which  he  will  never  forget.  From  that 
moment  he  has  a  standard  of  completeness  which  he  can  apply 
to  all  studies  and  all  labors.  He  becomes  intolerant  of  sham, 
of  half-way  knowledge,  of  hypocrisy  in  every  form. 

President  Eliot  has  emphasized  this  idea  of  specialization. 
"In  some  small  field  each  child  should  acquire  a  capacity  for 
exact  observation,  exact  description,  and  power  to  draw  a 
justly  limited  inference  from  observed  facts."1 

VI  Illustrations  of  Methods. — Up  to  this  point  we  have 
been  looking  at  the  school  simply  as  one  of  the  social  institu- 
tions which  compose  the  entire  system  of  society.  We  have 
been  trying  to  make  clear  what  society  must  require  of  its 
schools.  This  is  all  the  scope  of  this  work  demands.  It  is 
not  the  duty  of  the  writer  on  society  to  go  beyond  his  field 
into  the  realm  of  teachers  and  instruct  them  in  their  art.  The 
division  of  scientific  and  professional  labor  requires  us  to  lay 
the  entire  responsibility  of  method  on  pedagogy  and  peda- 
gogues, and  there  it  must  rest.  It  is  not  proposed  to  trespass 
on  the  preserves  of  the  teaching  profession  and  the  normal 
school. 

But  for  many  years  there  has  been  a  growing  conviction  on 
the  part  of  the  more  advanced  teachers  that  social  life  must 
determine  the  means  to  be  used  in  the  school.  The  literature 
of  education  is  now  teeming  with  suggestions  and  reports  of 
experiments,  some  of  them  crude  enough,  but  many  of  them 
indicating  a  rapid  and  wholesome  improvement  in  theory  and 
practice. 

It  will  make  some  of  the  points  already  discussed  still  more 
clear  and  impressive  if  a  few  of  these  experimental  methods 
be  outlined.    The  teaching  devices  here  given  are  not  intended 

1  The  Outlook,  Nov.  6,  1897,  p.  570. 


246  Social  Elements 


to  be  systematic  and  exhaustive,  but  suggestive  and  aphoristic. 
It  is  useless  to  insist  upon  a  principle  of  social  duty  without 
showing,  by  pertinent  illustrations,  that  it  is  within  range  of 
practice. 

Children  come  to  school  at  the  age  of  five  or  six,  or  even  to 
the  kindergarten,  with  a  social  experience  and  memory.  They 
have  learned  by  imitation  how  to  walk,  talk,  make  and  inter- 
pret gestures.  They  have  heard  music  and  become  familiar 
with  family  life, —  its  industries,  economics,  thrift,  saving, 
technical  processes  of  cooking  and  housekeeping,  cooperation 
in  work,  sociable  converse,  worship,  and  insistence  on  moral 
order  of  duties  and  virtues.  The  child  has  known  law  and 
government,  and  thus  does  not  arrive  at  the  school  a  mere 
blank  paper  to  be  written  over  with  the  teacher's  own  egotism. 
The  possession  of  language  is  a  treasure  and  the  key  to  a  greater 
treasury. 

The  school  itself,  even  without  any  conscious  plan  of  imita- 
ting society  at  large,  is  a  miniature  social  organization.  There 
is  government,  order,  preferred  qualities  and  habits,  ideals  to 
be  admired  and  followed,  and  the  discipline  of  cooperating 
actions. 

The  neighborhood  furnishes  new  social  experiences,  and  the 
road  to  school  affords  incidents  for  instruction  in  the  social 
order.  There  is  property  in  apples  and  flowers  by  the  way, 
to  be  protected  by  the  social  conscience.  There  are  the  rules 
of  highway  and  pavement  to  be  learned  and  respected.  There 
is  the  awful  legend  over  the  bridge,  "  Five  dollars  fine  for 
riding  or  driving  faster  than  a  walk." 

The  children  have  had  social  experience  at  Sunday  School 
and  church,  and  have  formed  some  dim  provisional  notion  of 
the  ecclesiastical  organization  about  them,  and  the  peculiarity 
of  its  purposes. 

The  problem  of  the  teacher  is  to  utilize  all  these  experiences 
so  as  to  secure  an  orderly  arrangement  of  the  images  in  the 
child's  mind.  Manifestly  the  teacher  must  first  secure  such  a 
conception  of  the  relations  of  social  institutions  as  will  make 
direction  possible.  The  teacher  must,  as  guide,  know  the 
world  about  the  school,  and  have  a  large,  exact,  clear,  and 
systematic  view  of  the  structure  and  relations  of  the  members 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  247 


of  the  community.  This  does  not  require  that  each  teacher 
must  be  a  social  philosopher  and  master  of  culture  history  and 
student  of  the  dawn  of  time.  All  that  is  necessary  is  a  true, 
complete,  and  intelligent  conception  of  the  institutions  near 
at  hand,  a  keen  interest  in  their  purpose  and  working,  and  a 
living  curiosity  to  follow  out  the  lines  which  run  from  the 
cross-road  store  to  the  tea  plantations  of  dusky  Chinamen  and 
to  the  iron  mines  of  Michigan. 

By  the  aid  of  sand  charts  and  maps,  pictures,  globes,  and 
stories,  the  paths  of  thought  and  fancy  will  lead  to  the  ends 
of  the  world;  and  the  little  schoolhouse  will  be  populous 
with  images  of  societies  of  a  hundred  different  types.  Thus 
the  mental  horizon  will  expand  and  the  affections  and  rever- 
ence of  the  children  will  make  them  kin  to  all  mankind. 

Many  teachers  are  actually  organizing  the  school  itself  into 
various  forms  of  association  like  those  into  which  the  lives 
of  the  children  are  to  flow  at  maturity.  And  here  the  play 
instincts  come  to  the  aid  of  the  ingenious  teacher. 

Play  is  not  merely  the  overflow  of  exuberant  animal  spirits. 
Nor  is  it  merely  the  imitation  of  the  serious  work  of  mature 
persons.  Play  is  both  these  and  more.  By  a  useful  and  inter- 
esting instinct  children  are  actually  trained  by  their  plays  to 
learn  the  callings  of  adult  life.1  Every  game  of  this  kind  is 
part  of  an  apprenticeship  to  a  trade  or  calling.  All  is  free, 
unconstrained,  pleasure-giving,  and  yet  directly  adapted  to 
practice  in  useful  habits.  The  teacher  has  a  right  to  take 
advantage  of  these  functions  of  play  activity  and  direct  it  to 
an  educational  end. 

Wise  Plato  had  a  clear  view  of  the  significance  of  play  in 
education.  "And  the  education  must  begin  with  their  plays. 
The  spirit  of  law  must  be  imparted  to  them  in  music,  and  the 
spirit  of  order,  instead  of  disorder,  will  attend  them  in  all 
their  actions,  and  make  them  grow,  and  if  there  be  any  part 
of  the  State  which  has  fallen  down,  will  raise  that  up  again." 

Let  us  apply  the  suggestion  to  the  imitation  and  study  of 

industrial  and  business  institutions.     It  would  be  easy  to  find 

a  clerk  who  could  show  how  to  organize  the  entire  body  of 

pupils  into  a  bank,  with  its  clerks  and  customers.      A  visit  to 

1  Baldwin,  Social  and  Ethical  Interpretations,  p.  139. 


248  Social  Elements 


a  bank  would  give  the  children  not  only  a  more  definite  con- 
ception of  the  modes  of  business,  but  would  lead  them  to 
inquire  further  about  the  social  use  of  the  banker.  Every 
school,  perhaps,  ought  to  be  itself  a  branch  of  the  savings- 
bank  system.  When  a  savings  department  is  added  to  our 
postal  system,  this  will  be  easier  to  arrange.  Knowledge  would 
be  gained,  skill  in  accounts,  the  habit  of  foresight  and  thrift, 
the  inclination  to  save  and  provide  for  future  events, —  quali- 
ties which  lift  the  child  above  momentary  animal  and  savage 
impulse. 

Dr.  Elisha  Gray,  the  famous  inventor,  gives  us  a  delightful 
parable  of  the  law  of  power  through  use  and  exercise:  — 

"  I  have  said  that  the  permanent  magnet  would  hold  its  charge  after 
once  having  been  magnetized.  This  is  only  true  in  a  sense  and  under 
favorable  conditions.  If  made  of  the  best  of  steel  for  the  purpose,  and 
hardened  and  tempered  in  just  the  right  way,  it  will  hold  its  charge  if  it 
is  given  something  to  do.  If  a  piece  of  iron  is  placed  across  its  poles  it  also 
becomes  a  magnet,  and  its  molecules  turn  and  work  in  harmony  with  those 
of  the  mother  magnet.  These  magnetic  lines  of  force  reach  around  in  a 
circuit.  Even  before  the  iron,  or  '  keeper,'  as  it  is  called,  is  put  across  its 
poles,  there  are  lines  of  force  reaching  around  through  the  air  or  ether 
from  one  pole  to  another.  This  is  called  the  field  of  the  magnet,  and  when 
the  iron  is  placed  in  this  field  the  lines  of  force  pass  through  it  in  a  closed 
circuit,  and  if  the  'keeper'  is  large  enough  to  take  care  of  all  the  lines 
of  force  in  the  field,  the  magnet  will  not  attract  other  bodies,  because  its 
attraction  is  satisfied.  As  long  as  we  give  our  magnet  something  to  do,  up 
to  the  measure  of  its  capacity,  it  will  keep  up  its  power.  We  may  make 
other  magnets  with  it,  thousands,  yea  millions,  of  them,  and  it  not  only 
does  not  lose  its  power  but  may  be  even  stronger  for  having  done  this  work. 
If,  however,  we  hang  it  up  without  its  'keeper,'  and  give  it  nothing  to  do, 
it  gradually  returns  to  its  natural  condition  in  the  home  circle  of  molecular 
rings.  Little  by  little  the  coercive  force  is  overcome  by  the  constant  ten- 
dency of  the  molecule  to  go  back  to  its  natural  position  among  its  fellows." 

In  many  schools  it  has  been  found  practicable  to  give  the 
older  pupils  some  actual  share  in  the  instruction,  management, 
and  even  government  of  the  school.  It  is  by  action  that  we 
are  led  to  reflection.  The  school  itself,  as  one  of  the  most 
precious  institutions  of  the  land,  should  become  the  object  of 
study  by  the  pupils.  Its  purpose  should  be  made  clear;  its 
cost  should  be  understood,  and  the  expectations  of  its  founders 
should  be  rehearsed. 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  249 


The  school  may  become  the  material  for  study  of  political 
institutions  and  oi  legal  administration.  At  the  time  of  a 
primary  or  regular  election  the  teacher  may  take  advantage  of 
the  natural  interest  of  the  pupils  and  help  them  to  go  through 
the  forms  with  which  all  citizens  should  be  more  familiar. 
The  issues  may  be  discussed  under  the  guidance  of  a  discreet 
leader. 

In  relation  to  streets  and  roads,  the  children  are  sometimes 
organized  into  brigades  for  reporting  defects  to  the  authori- 
ties, to  keep  a  short  bit  of  highway  ideally  clean  and  beautiful 
as  a  rebuke  to  the  neglected  sections.  Conduct  is  more  edu- 
cative than  lectures. 

There  is  an  immediate  advantage  in  organizing  the  children 
into  a  fire  department.  Military  history  can  be  illustrated  in 
a  way  never  to  be  forgotten  if  the  boys  are  asked,  when  the 
snow  falls,  to  fortify  a  field,  just  as  their  fathers  prepared  for 
the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill  or  Gettysburg.  Snow  is  plastic  and 
good  material  for  projectiles  and  for  constructing  the  plans  of 
foreign  cities,  palaces,  and  halls  of  legislature. 

In  many  neighborhoods  there  will  be  occasion  for  organiz- 
ing the  children  into  relief  societies  for  helping  poor  families. 
Hospitals  may  be  remembered,  and  gentle  deeds  be  done  in 
neglected  poorhouses  where  aged  people  pine  and  droop  un- 
noticed and  forgotten.  The  chorus  of  children  may  be  per- 
mitted to  sing  their  joyous  glees  and  carols  for  those  whose 
declining  day  is  clouded  by  sorrow  and  poverty.  Thus,  by 
action,  the  three  forms  of  reverence  taught  by  Goethe  in 
Wilkelm  Meister  are  woven  into  the  habits  of  the  soul  and  the 
customs  of  the  town. 

In  a  certain  city  vacation  school  there  was  organized  a 
"Clean  City  League."  The  older  pupils  received  instruction 
in  regard  to  city  ordinances  governing  the  cleaning  of  streets, 
alleys,  yards,  and  garbage  boxes.  The  members  of  the  league 
were  asked  to  observe  the  condition  of  the  neighborhood  and 
to  bring  in  formal  complaints  of  all  violation  of  the  ordi- 
nances. These  complaints  were  sent  to  the  city  hall  and  re- 
ceived prompt  attention  from  the  authorities.  The  members 
were  also  taught  that  each  citizen  should  help  the  authorities 
by   not   making  dirt  or   throwing  papers  or  rubbish   in   the 


250  Social  Elements 


streets.  In  this  school  every  morning  all  of  the  teachers  and 
pupils  gathered  in  the  school  hall  for  opening  exercises. 
They  sang  a  patriotic  hymn,  saluted  the  American  flag,  and 
repeated  the  following  Civic  Creed:  — 

"God  hath  made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men,  and  we  are  his  children, 
brothers  and  sisters  all.  We  are  citizens  of  these  United  States,  and  we 
believe  our  flag  stands  for  self-sacrifice  for  the  good  of  all  the  people.  We 
want,  therefore,  to  be  true  citizens  of  our  great  city,  and  will  show  our  love 
for  her  by  our  works. 

"Our  city  does  not  ask  us  to  die  for  her  welfare;  she  asks  us  to  live  for 
her,  and  so  to  live  and  so  to  act  that  her  government  may  be  pure,  her 
officers  honest,  and  every  corner  of  her  territory  shall  be  a  place  fit  to  grow 
the  best  men  and  women  who  shall  rule  over  her." 

The  Gill  School  City.  —  Mr.  Wilson  L.  Gill,  of  New  York, 
has  worked  out  a  plan  for  the  organization  of  children  in  the 
public  schools  into  a  miniature  municipality  or  "school  city." 
The  plan  was  successfully  carried  out  during  the  months  of 
July  and  August  with  the  twelve  hundred  children  in  a  vaca- 
tion school  in  the  east  side  of  the  city  of  New  York.  The 
children  were  organized  into  a  perfect  miniature  municipality, 
governed  exactly  like  large  cities,  with  a  mayor,  aldermen, 
police,  street-cleaning,  and  health  departments.  The  officers 
were  elected  or  appointed  as  they  are  in  New  York,  and  they 
performed  their  duties  under  the  rules  of  the  several  depart- 
ments of  the  municipal  government  of  that  city.  The  plan 
not  only  solves  the  questions  of  discipline  and  control  within 
the  school,  and  of  keeping  the  school  buildings  and  grounds 
in  sanitary  condition,  but  is  of  the  greatest  value  in  teaching, 
by  "doing,"  the  duties  of  citizenship.  The  plan  is  now  being 
introduced  into  two  or  three  of  New  York's  schools  and  into 
the  Hoffman  School  of  Philadelphia.  It  is  hoped  to  extend 
it  to  the  schools  of  all  the  large  cities  of  the  country  {Public 
Opinion,  Aug.  26,  1897). 

To  Mr.  W.  A.  Millis,  Attica,  Indiana,  I  owe  the  following 
illustrations  of  methods  in  actual  use :  — 

"  In  the  ordinary  school  activities  various  and  many  devices  are  resorted 
to  to  secure  cooperative  work,  —  decoration  of  rooms;  committee  work  in 
care  of  property,  distribution   of  materials,  criticism   of  work,   etc.     The 


The   School  and  its  Social  Service  251 

pupils  are  made  responsible  as  a  body  for  as  much  as  possible  of  tin-  mech- 
anism. In  the  many  ways  offered  to  a  bright  sympathetic  teacher  she  en- 
deavors to  awaken  and  mould  a  healthy  social  consciousness.  The  method 
of  procedure  may  be  illustrated  with  the  study  of  the  hank  in  the  sixth  grade. 
By  discussions,  excursions,  and  reading  the  pupils  work  out  the  province  of 
the  bank,  as  place  of  safety  deposit,  means  of  easy  and  safe  exchange,  the 
local  clearing  house,  as  a  promoter  of  .business,  as  the  good  neighbor  that 
helps  the  business  man  over  the  tide,  etc.  The  pupils  are  taken  to  a  bank, 
its  workings  explained,  depositing,  checking  out,  buying  exchange,  loans; 
and  particularly  pupils  arc  made  to  feel  at  least,  and  understand  i!  possible, 
the  'disinterested  honesty'  of  the  bank  as  a  public  servant.  We  want 
them  to  get  acquainted  with  and  become  friends  with  the  bank  as  an 
institution." 

Another  interesting  experiment  is  the  University  Elemen- 
tary School,  Rosalie  Court,  Chicago:  — 

"  Grading. —  In  order  that  the  pupils  may  receive  individual  attention, 
each  of  the  younger  groups  is  limited  to  eight  children;  after  the  age  of 
twelve  to  fifteen,  as  circumstances  prove  advisable.  At  present  the  children 
are  arranged  in  eight  groups,  the  youngest  children  being  five  and  six,  the 
oldest  eleven  and  twelve.  The  grading  is  flexible,  the  children  being  classi- 
fied, not  according  to  technical  attainments,  but  according  to  intellectual 
maturity  and  capacity  for  work.  Children  in  the  same  group  do  varying 
amounts  of  work  along  the  same  general  line,  thus  combining  community 
of  aim  and  material  with  variety  of  individual  execution.  Children  are  ad- 
vanced from  one  group  to  another  whenever  they  show  signs  of  requiring 
the  stimulus  of  more  difficult  work.  No  examinations  are  held,  nor  marks 
given. 

"The  Programme. — The  programme  is  arranged  on  the  basis  of  provid- 
ing a  balance  between  active  (manual  training,  gymnasium,  cooking,  sew- 
ing, etc.)  and  more  strictly  intellectual  work.  Each  group  has  physical 
culture  daily.  Each  group  has  field  work,  or  visits  some  museum,  gallery, 
etc.,  weekly.  With  the  younger  children  the  active  factor  predominates; 
and  work  in  science,  history,  number,  etc.,  is  kept  in  strict  connection  with 
the  constructive  activities  of  cooking,  sewing,  and  carpentering.  Differ- 
entiation is  gradually  introduced  as  the  children  mature,  till  (as  with  Groups 
VI-VIII  at  present)  distinctively  intellectual  problems  are  introduced, 
books  are  neither  made  a  fetich  nor  excluded.  Lessons  specially  prepared, 
records  of  work  done,  etc.,  are  printed  for  the  smaller  children,  and  this 
work  will  be  carried  much  further  as  soon  as  the  school  has  a  printing-press 
—  a  great  need  at  present.  Looks  are  used  with  older  groups  not  asset 
texts,  but  for  reference,  as  convenient  summaries  and  as  guides  to  the  matter 
under  discussion.  Owing  to  limitation  of  funds,  art  work  at  present  save- 
in  music  is  scantily  provided  for.  It  is  hoped  that  this  will  speedily  be 
remedied. 


252  Social  Elements 


"Aforal  Aims.  —  Genuine,  as  distinct  from  artificial,  moral  growth  is 
measured  by  the  extent  to  which  children  practically  recognize  in  the  school 
the  same  moral  motives  and  relations  that  obtain  outside.  This  can  be  se- 
cured only  when  the  school  contains  the  social  conditions,  and  presents  the 
flexible,  informal  relations  that  prevail  in  every-day  life.  When  school 
duties  and  responsibilities  are  of  a  sort  found  only  in  the  school,  compara- 
tively little  aid  is  secured  for  the  all-round,  healthy  development  of  char- 
acter. When  school  conditions  are  so  rigid  and  formal  as  not  to  parallel 
anything  outside  the  school,  external  order  and  decorum  may  be  secured, 
but  there  is  no  guarantee  of  right  growth  in  directions  demanded  by  the 
ordinary  walks  of  life.  When  what  is  expected  of  children  is  based  on  the 
requirements  of  school  lessons  and  school  order  as  laid  down  by  text-books 
or  teacher,  not  by  work  of  positive  value  to  those  doing  it,  external  habits 
of  attention  and  restraint  may  be  formed,  but  not  power  of  initiative  and 
direction  nor  moral  self-control. 

"  Hence  the  emphasis  in  the  school  laid  upon  social  occupations  which 
continue  and  reinforce  those  of  life  outside  the  school,  and  the  compara- 
tive freedom  and  informality  accorded  the  children.  These  are  means,  not 
an  end.  Moral  responsibility  is  secured  only  by  corresponding  freedom. 
Hence  the  school  work  on  the  moral  side  is  to  be  judged  not  by  passing, 
external  occurrences,  but  by  its  efficiency  in  promoting  healthy  growth  of 
character,  which  is  slow,  not  sudden;  and  a  general  modification  of  dispo- 
sition and  motive,  not  an  external  bearing  or  attitude. 

"Intellectual  Aims.  The  Question  of  Motive.  —  For  genuine  intel- 
lectual development,  it  is  impossible  to  separate  the  attainment  of 
knowledge  from  its  application.  The  divorce  between  learning  and  its  use 
is  the  most  serious  defect  in  our  existing  education.  Without  the  con- 
sciousness of  application,  '  learning '  has  no  motive  to  the  child.  Material 
thus  'learned'  is  separated  from  the  actual  conditions  of  the  child's  life; 
and  a  fatal  split  is  introduced  between  school  learning  and  vital  experience 
—  a  split  which  reflects  itself  in  the  child's  whole  mental  and  moral  atti- 
tude. The  emphasis  in  the  school  upon  constructive  and  so-called  manual 
work  is  due  largely  to  the  fact  that  such  occupations  connect  themselves 
easily  and  naturally  with  the  child's  every-day  environment,  create  natural 
motives  for  the  acquiring  of  information  and  the  mastery  of  related  meth- 
ods through  the  problems  which  they  introduce. 

"The  Question  of  Method.  —  As  to  methods,  the  aim  is  to  keep  alive 
and  direct  the  active,  inquiring  attitude  of  the  child,  and  to  subordinate 
the  amassing  of  facts  and  principles  to  the  development  of  intellectual 
self-control,  —  power  to  conceive  and  solve  problems.  Immense  damage 
is  done  wherever  the  getting  of  a  certain  quantity  of  information  or  cover- 
ing a  certain  amount  of  ground  is  made  the  end,  at  the  expense  of  mastery 
of  methods  of  inquiry  and  reflection.  If  children  can  retain  their  natural 
investigating  tendencies  unimpaired,  gradually  organizing  them  into  defi- 
nite methods  of  work,  when  they  reach  the  proper  age  they  can  master 
the  required  amount  of  facts  and  generalizations  much  more  effectively 
than  when  the  latter  are  forced  upon  them  at  so  early  a  period  as  to  crush 


The  School  and  its  Social  Service  253 

the  natural  interest  in  searching  out  new  truths.  Acquiring  tends  to  re- 
place inquiring. 

uThe  Question  of  Subject-Matter*  —  Statistics  show  that,  in  our  existing 

school  system,  from  sixty  to  eighty  per  cent  of  the  time  of  the  first  two  or 
three  years  of  school  life  is  spent  upon  mastery  of  the  technical  forms 
of  knowledge,  learning  to  make  and  recognize  written  and  printed  forms 
and  manipulate  number  symbols.  If  these  same  ends  can  be  accomplished 
(even  if  somewhat  later  than  at  present),  and  the  child  at  the  same  time 
brought  in  contact  with  fields  of  experience  which  have  a  positive  value 
of  their  own,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  great  gain.  Accordingly  read- 
ing, writing,  spelling,  composition,  figuring,  etc.,  are  not  introduced  as 
ends  in  themselves.  They  come  in  as  records  of  what  has  been  done,  and 
as  helps  in  connection  with  the  positive  subject-matter  found  in  history, 
literature,  and  science.  So  far  as  experience  goes,  it  demonstrates  that 
the  relative  loss  in  the  amount  gone  over  in  the  first  two  or  three  years,  is 
much  more  than  made  up  for  in  ability  to  use  intelligently  what  is  got,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  inestimable  advantage  of  substitution  of  intrinsically 
valuable  facts  and  ideas  for  the  trivialities  of  ordinary  reading  and  writing 
lessons,  etc." —  The  University  Record,  Jan.,  1898. 

VII.  Betterment  of  Rural  Schools. — Order  and  progress, 
peace  and  vigorous  life,  in  the  United  States  depend,  in  very 
great  degree,  on  the  condition  and  work  of  the  rural  schools. 
The  subject  is  of  vital  importance  to  the  entire  nation  and 
to  mankind.  Already  these  schools  have  done  a  splendid 
work.  Multitudes  of  strong  men  and  women,  leaders  in  the 
centres  of  industrial  and  political  life,  professors  in  colleges, 
editors  of  wide  influence,  have  been  educated  in  their  early 
life  by  these  modest  institutions.  Some  of  our  greatest  states- 
men have  had  no  other  regular  instruction.  At  this  hour  the 
rural  school  is  quietly  sending  forward  a  noble  army  of 
healthy,  sensible,  and  patriotic  students,  many  of  whom  are 
to  be  in  the  front  rank  of  society  in  years  to  come. 

But  we  must  advance.  The  achievements  of  the  past  can 
be  maintained  only  by  virtue  of  progress.  The  tree  must  send 
out  new  buds  and  leaves  or  it  must  perish.  The  economic 
condition  of  the  world  is  rapidly  changing.  Wasteful  methods 
are  more  ruinous  than  when  we  had  plenty  of  free  and  virgin 
soil.  The  modern  means  of  transportation  have  made  the 
farmer  of  to-day  in  Missouri  or  Minnesota  the  competitor  of 
the  cheap  laborer  of  India  or  of  Siberia.  Necessity  goads  to 
invention,  and  invention  demands  educated  minds.  Worn 
soils  will  not  be  restored  to  their  productive  powers  without 


254  Social  Elements 


knowledge  and  application  of  chemistry.  Farmers  will  not 
know  what  crops  to  raise  in  due  proportion  without  knowledge 
of  the  demands  of  foreign  countries  and  the  markets  of  manu- 
facturing cities.  Men  must  farm  with  their  mental  powers  as 
well  as  with  their  hands,  and  thought  must  direct  muscle. 
The  competitions  of  the  world  market  have  come  down  upon 
us  to  compel  us  to  be  wise  and  skilful  and  educated. 

There  are  in  some  quarters  of  our  country  very  deplor- 
able facts  which  demand  serious  thought  and  effort.  The 
tendency  to  city  life  provoked  by  the  increase  of  manufactures, 
stimulated  by  the  spectacle  of  large  fortunes,  incited  by  the 
desire  to  live  in  the  centres  of  motion,  culture,  and  interest, 
has  drawn  away  many  farmers  and  their  families  from  certain 
districts,  and  population  has  thus  diminished.  Frequently, 
the  character  of  the  population  has  changed  for  the  worse,  and 
the  tenant  immigrants  have  not  had  the  same  ideals  as  those 
of  the  earlier  residents.  Roads  and  schools  and  churches 
under  these  conditions  have  grown  worse.  The  very  regions 
which  have  most  need  of  good  schools  are  often  too  poor  to 
support  them,  and  as  the  means  of  education  become  inferior 
the  very  desire  for  culture  diminishes.  Reports  from  many 
parts  of  the  Union  reveal  the  fact  that  the  schools  are  too 
small  to  permit  necessary  grading  of  classes  and  furnish  enough 
pupils  to  be  inspiring  and  encouraging  to  teacher  and  pupil. 
Where  numbers  are  so  small  the  salaries  are  too  low  to  induce 
competent  teachers  to  give  themselves  to  the  task. 

This  is  not  an  indictment  against  the  rural  schools  in  gen- 
eral. The  statement  applies  only  where  the  conditions  de- 
scribed actually  exist.  But  there  they  apply  in  their  full  force. 
The  nation  cannot  afford  to  leave  any  portion  of  its  population 
in  circumstances  which  tend  to  barbarism.  Each  human 
being  affects  the  life  of  all. 

What  is  required?  What  means  of  reformation  are  advis- 
able? On  this  subject  we  have  the  verdict  of  experts,  in  the 
"Report  of  the  Committee  of  Twelve  on  Rural  Schools,"1 
made  to  the  National  Educational  Association  in  1897.     Some 

1  Published  separately  by  the  University  of  Chicago  Press.  See  the  discus- 
sions on  the  subject  in  Proceedings  of  National  Educational  Association,  Mil- 
waukee, 1897. 


Tlic  School  and  its  Social  Service  255 

of  the  principal  points  of  agreement  may  here  be  set  down  by 
way  of  illustration.  I  use  the  language  of  Mr.  Henry  Sabin, 
the  chairman  :  (1)  "For  purposes  of  organization,  mainte- 
nance, or  supervision,  nothing  should  be  recognized  as  the  unit 
smaller  than  the  township  or  the  county;  the  school  district 
is  the  most  undesirable  unit  possible.  (2)  Every  community 
should  be  required  to  raise  a  certain  sum  for  the  support  of  its 
schools  as  a  prerequisite  for  receiving  its  share  of  public 
money.  A  certain  definite  sum  should  be  appropriated  to 
each  school  out  of  the  state  funds,  and  the  remainder  should 
be  divided  in  accordance  with  some  fixed  and  established  rule, 
a  discrimination  being  made  in  favor  of  townships  most  will- 
ing to  tax  themselves  for  school  purposes.  (3)  One  of  the 
great  hindrances  to  the  improvement  of  the  rural  school  lies 
in  its  isolation,  and  its  inability  to  furnish  the  pupil  that 
stimulative  influence  which  comes  from  contact  with  others  of 
his  own  age  and  advancement.  The  committee,  therefore, 
recommends  collecting  pupils  from  small  schools  into  larger, 
and  paying,  from  the  public  funds,  for  their  transportation, 
believing  that  in  this  way  better  teachers  can  be  provided, 
more  rational  methods  of  instruction  adopted,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  expense  of  the  schools  can  be  materially  lessened. 
(4)  There  is  a  tendency  to  fill  the  rural  schools  with  untrained, 
immature  teachers.  The  establishment  of  normal  training 
schools,  under  competent  instructors,  with  short  courses,  each 
year  of  which  shall  be  complete  in  itself,  would  do  much  to 
remedy  this  evil.  The  extension  and  adjustment  of  the 
courses  and  terms  of  the  state  normal  schools  so  as  to  consti- 
tute a  continuous  session  would  enable  them  to  contribute 
more  directly  than  now  to  the  improvement  of  the  teachers  of 
rural  schools.  The  state  would  then  be  justified  in  demanding 
some  degree  of  professional  training  from  every  teacher  in  the 
rural  as  well  as  in  the  city  schools.  (5)  The  establishment  of 
libraries,  the  prosecution  of  the  work  of  school  extension  by 
lectures  and  other  means,  the  introduction  of  such  studies  as 
will  have  a  tendency  to  connect  the  school  and  the  home,  es- 
pecially those  having  a  direct  bearing  upon  the  every-day  life 
of  the  community,  and  the  necessity  of  applying  the  laws  of 
sanitation  to  the  construction  of  rural  schoolhouses,  demand 


256  Social  Elements 


immediate  attention.  (6)  The  rural  schools  are  suffering  from 
the  want  of  official  and  intelligent  supervision.  In  every  state 
some  standard  of  qualifications,  moral  and  intellectual,  with 
some  amount  of  actual  experience,  should  be  demanded  by 
law  from  those  who  aspire  to  fill  the  office  of  superintendent 
or  supervisor  of  schools.  (7)  Good  morals  and  good  manners 
constitute  an  essential  part  of  an  educational  equipment.  The 
inculcation  of  patriotism,  of  respect  for  law  and  order,  of 
whatever  tends  to  make  a  good  citizen,  is  of  as  much  impor- 
tance in  a  small  as  in  a  larger  school.  Regularity,  punctu- 
ality, obedience,  industry,  self-control,  are  as  necessary  in  the 
country  as  in  the  city  school.  Country  school  teachers  should 
call  to  their  aid  the  beautiful  things  in  nature,  that  with  rever- 
ential spirit  they  may  lead  the  children  to  reverence  Him  who 
hath  made  all  things  good  in  their  season." 

One  reform  helps  another  forward.  In  the  Report  already 
quoted,  we  find  this  example  of  the  principle  of  social  soli- 
darity: "School  consolidation  turns  largely  upon  means  of 
cheap,  safe,  and  easy  communication  throughout  the  school 
area.  Here  we  touch  a  question  intimately  relating  to  social 
progress  —  the  improvement  of  roads.  Those  who  have  been 
promoting  this  movement  have  not  probably  regarded  it  as  a 
measure  of  educational  reform;  but  such  it  is.  Perhaps  there 
is  no  rural  interest  of  a  social  nature  that  would  be  more  de- 
cidedly enhanced  by  good  roads  than  the  educational  interest. 
The  people  of  some  of  the  towns  of  Ohio,  where  the  new  plan 
is  being  tried,  claim  this  as  a  decided  advantage,  that  the 
drivers  of  the  omnibuses  serve  as  carriers  for  the  mails  between 
the  farmhouses  and  the  post  offices,  thus  promoting  the  diffu- 
sion of  intelligence  in  still  another  way." 

In  illustration  of  the  principle  that  the  school  should  be 
related  closely  to  the  daily  home  life  and  the  probable  life 
interest  of  the  child,  an  important  suggestion  is  made,  and 
that  on  the  basis  of  successful  experiments.  The  normal 
schools  should  fit  teachers  of  rural  schools  to  give  instruction 
in  horticulture  and  agriculture.  The  school  garden  should 
be  a  feature  of  every  school,  as  a  means  of  education  in  the 
elements  of  physical  science,  as  chemistry  and  biology,  and  as 
a  direct  agency  for  training  children  for  their  future  life  work. 


The   ScJiool  and  its   Social  Service  257 


By  connecting  the  daily  labor  with  the  study  of  beauty  and  of 
science,  the  ordinary  occupation  of  the  community  comes  to 
be  associated  in  the  mind,  not  with  servile  drudgery,  but  with 
the  accomplishments  and  dignified  pursuits  of  the  soul.1 

The  township  system  of  rural  schools  should  not  be  content 
with  a  plan  of  elementary  instruction;  it  should  be  itself  a 
comprehensive  system  of  education  for  persons  of  all  classes 
and  all  ages.  The  entire  community  should  be  united  in  en- 
thusiastic devotion  to  constant  study.  There  is  no  end  to 
knowledge  and  to  the  need  of  knowledge.  The  brain  loses  its 
power  unless  it  is  busy  with  fresh  thought.  Common  pursuit 
of  ideal  goods  elevates  the  standard  of  thought  and  binds 
together  the  people  in  a  worthy  fellowship.  Political  thought 
and  action  become  more  serious,  effective,  and  helpful  when 
all  citizens  are  reading  the  same  books  and  discussing  the 
topics  thus  introduced.  Church  life  becomes  broader,  kinder, 
more  practical  and  generous  with  influx  of  new  forms  of 
knowledge.  Home  life  is  made  more  attractive,  purer,  more 
wholesome  by  the  perpetual  supply  of  fresh  inspirations,  noble 
literature,  and  interchange  of  ideas  among  neighbors.  Coun- 
try society  comes  to  have  some  of  the  advantages  of  city  life, 
its  variety  of  interest,  its  intellectual  stimulus,  its  broader  out- 
look; with  this  advantage  over  city  life  that  there  is  more 
quiet  and  leisure  for  reflection  and  meditation  during  the 
winter  season. 

The  supervisor  of  the  school  system  of  a  township  may  well 
be  the  leader  in  such  a  large  and  hopeful  work;  he  may  act 
with  the  state  reading  circle,  with  county  school  authorities, 
and  with  educated  persons  to  frame  plans  of  reading,  to  ar- 
range meetings  for  discussion,  debate,  and  entertainment,  and 
to  give  certificates  of  work  done  upon  the  basis  of  careful 

1  "  A  series  of  text-books  have  been  prepared  for  school  and  home  use. 
Professor  Bailey,  of  Cornell  University,  has  written  Plant-Breeding:  a  Horti- 
culturist's Rule  Book.  Professor  King  has  given  us  a  good  book  on  the  Soil. 
Professor  Voorhees,  of  the  New  Jersey  Agricultural  College,  a  Manual  of  Agri- 
culture. Professor  Shaler,  of  Harvard,  Professor  Waldo,  Professor  Tarr  of 
Cornell,  and  Professor  Spaulding,  on  geology,  botany,  entomology,  chemistry, 
and  meteorology  in  their  applied  forms,  as  well  as  physical  geography,  adapted 
to  the  use  of  children  on  the  farms."  —  E.  P.  Poivell,  in  the  Independent,  Jan. 
20,  1898. 

A  list  of  books  is  given  on  pp.  190-193,  Pep.  Com.  on  Rural  Schools. 
s 


258  Social  Elements 


records.  He  will  be  the  responsible  officer  to  care  for  the 
local  library,  see  that  it  is  replenished  with  new  publications, 
and  that  the  volumes  are  worn  out  by  actual  use,  since  to  be 
used  up  in  usefulness  is  the  end  of  books  and  of  good  people. 

VIII.  The  Duty  of  Society  to  the  School.  —  If  education  is 
for  social  life,  and  the  imperative  condition  of  order,  happi- 
ness, and  progress,  then  we  have  determined  for  us  the  duty 
of  the  state  in  relation  to  education.  We  know  the  function 
of  government  as  the  organ  of  the  universal  will.  Society  has 
no  other  instrument  through  which  the  entire  community  can 
protect  its  interests,  promote  its  welfare,  and  secure  its  good. 
If  it  is  true  that  education,  of  the  right  sort,  is  a  universal 
necessity,  then  the  agency  of  the  universal  will  must  provide 
for  it.  Society  cannot  risk  this  essential  in  the  hands  of  pri- 
vate parties  and  irresponsible  bodies.  That  which  is  vital  to 
order  and  progress  must  be  provided  for  beyond  the  possi- 
bility of  failure  through  caprice  and  fashion.  The  state  must 
provide  schools  for  all  and  require  the  attendance  of  all  the 
growing  community. 

This  does  not  mean  that  private  and  parochial  schools 
should  be  suppressed.  It  is  even  an  advantage  to  have  a  kind 
of  competition  in  methods.  Perhaps  all  schools  are  better 
for  a  degree  of  rivalry.  Perhaps  any  institution  might  become 
formal,  bureaucratic,  and  dead,  in  the  absence  of  varied  and 
competing  institutions. 

But  it  is  a  fair  inference  that  the  state  must  guarantee  a  cer- 
tain minimum  of  education  to  every  child,  and  make  higher 
culture  and  research  work  possible  in  every  branch  of  science. 
There  is  no  logical  limit  to  the  state  function  in  education,  if 
all  are  left  free.  Its  work  reaches  from  the  primary  school  to 
the  university.  And  as  the  process  of  education  is  endless, 
each  community  should  provide,  by  means  of  voluntary  asso- 
ciations, classes,  conferences  of  teachers,  and  citizens,  for 
adult  study.  For  this  advanced  work  the  schoolrooms  are  the 
natural  place  of  assembly,  where  all  citizens  feel  they  have  a 
right  to  be.  The  educational  functions  of  the  government 
do  not  end  even  with  university  graduates. 


CHAPTER   XII 

Socialized  Idealism.     Religion  and  tlie  Church 

"  God  is  in  all  that  liberates  and  lifts, 
In  all  that  humbles,  sweetens,  and  consoles." 

—  J.  R.  Lowell,  The  Cathedral. 

"  Pomp  and  ostentation  of  reading  is  admired  among  the  vulgar,  but 
doubtless  in  matter  of  religion  he  is  learnedest  who  is  plainest.  The  brev- 
ity I  use,  not  exceeding  a  small  manual,  will  not  therefore,  I  suppose,  be 
thought  the  less  considerable,  unless  with  them  perhaps  who  think  that 
great  books  only  can  determine  great  matters.  I  rather  choose  the  com- 
mon rule,  not  to  make  much  ado,  where  less  may  serve.  Which  in  con- 
troversies, and  those  especially  of  religion,  would  make  them  less  tedious, 
and  by  consequence  read  oftener  by  many  men,  and  with  more  benefit." 

—  John  Milton,  A  Treatise  of  Civil  Power. 

"  Religion's  all  or  nothing;   it's  no  mere  smile 
O'  contentment,  sigh  of  aspiration,  Sir  — 

Rather,  stuff 
O'  the  very  stuff,  life  of  life,  and  self  of  self." 

—  R.  Browning. 

"The  life  of  Christ  was  lived  to  inspire,  not  to  confuse.  Little  things 
are  restless;  the  great  repose.  Scholars  are  tenacious  of  details,  for  they 
hold  the  values  of  accuracy  in  their  keeping.  But  Christian  scholars  are 
generous  in  feeling,  for  they  hold  the  treasures  of  faith  in  trust.  They  may 
contend  about  the  unimportant.  On  the  essential  they  will  agree.  .  .  . 
The  important  things  —  all  that  any  of  us  need,  all  that  most  of  us  care 
for  —  are  few,  clear,  and  unquestionable.  Jesus  Christ  lived  and  died,  and 
lived  again  after  death.  He  lived  a  life  explicable  upon  no  other  view  of 
it  than  his.  He  founded  a  faith  comprehensible  upon  no  other  interpre- 
tation of  it  than  his  own.  He  himself  is  Christianity.  He  is  the  greatest 
force  in  civilization :  the  highest  motive  power  in  philosophy,  in  art,  in 
poetry,  in  science,  in  faith.  He  is  the  centre  of  human  brotherhood.  To 
apprehend  him  is  to  open  the  only  way  that  has  yet  been  found  out  of  the 
trap  of  human  misery.     His  personality  is  the  best  explanation  yet  given 

259 


260  Social  Elements 


of  the  mystery  of  human  life.  It  offers  the  only  assurance  we  have  of  a 
life  to  come.  .  .  .  The  butterflies  of  immortal  hope  are  delicate  organisms, 
easily  impaled  by  sceptical  naturalists,  and  eagerly  catalogued  with  other 
lost  ideals.  .  .  .  Men  are  many,  and  scholars  are  few.  It  is  with  more 
confidence  in  the  warm,  human  world  outside  of  books,  that  this  one  hopes 
to  find  its  friends. 

"  There  has  come  to  me,  during  the  time  given  to  the  growth  of  this  work, 
an  experience  always  full  of  wonder  and  of  charm.  Often,  on  waking  in 
the  morning,  after  days  of  the  most  absorbing  and  affectionate  study  of  the 
( ireat  Life,  the  first  conscious  thought  has  been, '  Who  was  with  me  yester- 
day? What  noble  being  entered  this  door?  In  what  delightful,  in  what 
high  society,  have  I  been?  I  felt  as  if  I  had  made  a  new,  a  supreme  ac- 
quaintance. ...  I  pass  over  this  feeling  to  those  who  can  understand  it, 
or  who  may  share  it,  and  wish  it,  from  my  heart,  for  those  who  do  not." 
—  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps,  The  Story  of  Jesus  Christ. 

"  But  what  we  seek  is  association. 

"  How  shall  we  realize  this  securely,  unless  among  brothers,  believing  in 
the  same  ruling  principle,  united  in  the  same  faith,  and  bearing  witness  by 
the  same  name? 

"  What  we  seek  is  education. 

"  How  shall  we  give  or  receive  it,  unless  in  virtue  of  a  principle,  that  sums 
up  and  expresses  our  common  belief  as  to  the  origin,  the  aim,  and  the  law 
of  the  life  of  mankind  upon  earth? 

|;  We  seek  a  common  education. 

"  How  shall  we  give  or  receive  it  without  belief  in  a  common  faith  and  a 
common  duty? 

"And  whence  can  we  deduce  a  common  duty,  if  not  from  the  idea  we 
form  of  God  and  our  relation  to  Him?" 

"  Doubtless  universal  suffrage  is  an  excellent  thing.  It  is  the  only  legal 
means  by  which  a  people  may  govern  itself  without  risk  of  continual  vio- 
lent crises.  Universal  suffrage  in  a  country  governed  by  a  common  faith 
is  the  expression  of  the  national  will;  but  in  a  country  deprived  of  a  com- 
mon belief,  what  can  it  be  but  the  mere  expression  of  the  interests  of  those 
numerically  the  stronger,  to  the  oppression  of  all  the  rest? 

"  All  the  political  reforms  achieved  in  countries  either  irreligious  or 
indifferent  to  religion  have  lasted  as  long  as  interest  allowed  —  no  longer. 
( )n  this  point  the  experience  of  political  movements  in  Europe  during  the 
last  fifty  years  has  taught  us  lessons  enough. 

"  To  those  who  speak  to  you  of  heaven,  and  seek  to  separate  it  from 
earth,  you  will  say  that  heaven  and  earth  are  one,  even  as  the  way  and  the 
goal  are  one.  Tell  us  not  that  the  earth  is  of  clay.  The  earth  is  of  God. 
( rod  created  it  as  the  medium  through  which  we  may  ascend  to  Him.  The 
earth  is  not  a  mere  sojourn  of  temptation  or  of  expiation;  it  is  the  ap- 
pointed dwelling-place  wherein  we  are  bound  to  work  out  our  own  im- 


Socialized  Idealism.     Religion  and  the  Church     261 


6 


provement  and  development  and  advance  towards  a  higher  Stage  of  exist" 
ence.  Cod  created  us  not  to  contemplate,  hut  to  act.  lie  created  03  in 
His  own  image,  and  lie  is  Thought  and  Action,  or  rather,  in  Him  there  is 
no  Thought  which  is  not  simultaneous  Action. 

"  You  tell  us  to  despise  all  worldly  things,  to  trample  under  foot  our  ter- 
restrial life,  in  order  to  concern  ourselves  solely  with  the  Celestial;  but 
what  is  our  terrestrial  life  save  a  prelude  to  the  Celestial,  —  a  step  towards 
it?  See  you  not  that  while  sanctifying  the  last  step  of  the  ladder  by  which 
we  must  all  ascend,  by  thus  declaring  the  first  accursed  you  arrest  us  on 
the  way  ?  "  —  MAZZINI,  The  Duties  of  Ma  n . 

I.  We  may  follow  our  uniform  method  thus  far  and  begin 
with  recalling  to  our  minds  the  visible  institutions  and  social 
manifestations  of  religion.  It  is  always  desirable  to  collect 
some  unquestionable  facts  and  deal  with  reality  at  first  hand. 
That  religion  is  actually  a  mighty  force  in  society  no  one 
doubts,  and  the  marks  and  outward  revelations  of  that  force 
are  everywhere  manifest  in  edifices,  associations,  assemblies, 
congregations,  conventions,  numbering  many  thousands,  cen- 
sus returns  of  membership,  reports  of  work,  deeds  of  benefi- 
cence, devotion  of  money  and  life  in  furtherance  of  religious 
ends. 

It  is  well  for  us  to  approach  the  social  study  of  religion 
without  prejudice,  as  far  as  possible.  Social  theory  does  not 
consider  whether  creeds  are  true  or  false.  That  work  belongs 
to  metaphysicians,  theologians,  preachers.  There  must  be 
division  of  mental  labor,  and  sociology  does  not  inquire  into 
the  grounds  for  the  various  beliefs  of  mankind,  nor  seek  to 
criticise  or  reconcile  the  warring  tenets  of  creeds. 

But  the  student  of  society  has  no  right  to  ignore  any  solid 
fact  which  bears  upon  the  explanation  of  institutions  and 
associated  movements.  Even  if  one  detests  a  doctrine  in 
finance,  politics,  art,  or  religion,  he  must  not  pass  it  over  in 
giving  a  history  of  an  age.  One  must  be  impartial  and  never 
close  his  mind's  door  in  face  of  any  factor  which  helps  to 
explain  life.  Therefore  we  must  notice  the  fact  of  religion. 
It  will  readily  be  understood  that  the  word  "church"  is  used 
here  as  the  common  and  well-understood  designation  of  all 
institutions  of  religion.  Into  the  particular  definitions  given 
in  ecclesiastical  and  theological  controversies  this  is  not  the 
place  to  enter. 


262  Social  Elements 


II.  The  Immediate  Causes  of  the  Church.  —  Certain  beliefs, 
convictions,  hopes,  affections,  and  determinations,  shared  by 
a  vast  number  of  the  members  of  society,  and  affecting  all 
members  in  some  degree,  explain  the  church.  These  beliefs 
relate  to  the  "ground  of  being,"  to  the  hope  of  future  life, 
to  present  duty,  to  the  nature  of  man  and  his  spiritual  origin. 
Religion,  like  all  interests  of  mankind,  has  three  aspects, — 
rational,  emotional,  and  active.  It  is  a  certain  mode  of 
thinking,  a  mass  of  feeling  and  sentiment,  an  attitude  of  will, 
and  a  course  of  conduct. 

Because  religion  is  human,  it  must  be  imperfect  in  its  earthly 
manifestations.  There  is  no  perfect  music,  painting,  archi- 
tecture, oratory,  government.  Science  is  always  outgrowing 
its  clothes  and  bursting  its  seams.  Philosophy  is  ever  increas- 
ing in  compass  and  clearness.  All  that  is  human  is  a  becom- 
ing, something  in  process  of  growth.  Earth  has  no  complete 
circles,  only  arcs  that  suggest  vast  circles.  Our  souls  are 
narrow.  "God's  fruit  of  justice  ripens  slow."  Each  new 
book  is  a  confession  of  the  sins  of  ancestors  and  an  appeal  to 
the  mercy  of  posterity.  Newton  and  Galileo,  if  they  were 
now  alive,  would  admit  the  imperfections  of  their  great  work. 
There  is  no  use  to  quarrel  with  our  destiny.  Volumes  have 
been  written  filled  with  criticism  of  the  church,  its  creeds,  its 
acts,  its  superstitions.  The  criticism  was  necessary,  for  it  is 
only  by  revelations  of  error  that  we  advance  to  larger  truths. 

The  church  has  no  monopoly  of  bigotry.  A  French  free- 
thinker writes :  "  Formerly,  when  a  city  was  attacked  by  some 
scourge,  the  first  care  of  the  notable  inhabitants,  of  the  chiefs 
of  the  city,  was  to  order  public  prayers;  to-day  the  practical 
means  for  battling  with  epidemics  and  other  scourges  are 
better  known,  but  nevertheless,  in  1885,  when  there  was  cholera 
in  Marseilles,  the  municipal  council  devoted  its  attention 
almost  singly  to  removing  the  religious  mottoes  from  the  walls 
of  the  public  schools;  it  is  a  remarkable  example  of  what  one 
may  call  a  counter-superstition."1 

"  Man  is  not  God,  but  hath  God's  end  to  serve, 
A  master  to  obey,  a  course  to  take, 
Somewhat  to  cast  off,  somewhat  to  become? 

1  Guyau,  Non-Religion  of  the  Future,  p.  18. 


Socialized  Idealism.     Religion  and  the  Church     263 

Grant  this,  then  man  must  pass  from  old  to  new. 

From  vain  to  real,  from  mistake  to  fact, 

From  what  once  seemed  good  to  what  now  proves  best. 

******** 

While  man  knows  partly  but  conceives  beside, 

Creeps  ever  on  from  fancies  to  the  fact, 

And  in  this  striving,  this  converting  air 

Into  a  solid  he  may  grasp  and  use, 

Finds  progress,  man's  distinctive  mark  alone, 

Not  God's  and  not  the  beasts' ;   God  is,  they  are, 

Man  partly  is  and  wholly  hopes  to  be."  —  R.  Browning. 

Man  cannot  rise  above  his  own  thought;  it  is  his  duty  and 
right  to  help  his  thought  to  grow  more  complete,  more  ade- 
quate. 

"  Each  age  must  worship  its  own  thought  of  God, 
More  or  less  earthy,  clarifying  still 
With  subsidence  continuous  of  dregs." 

—  J.  R.  Lowell,  The  Cathedral. 

Social  consciousness  of  the  imperfection  of  all  things  human 
brings  with  it  sweet  reasonableness  and  tolerance  or  charity  of 
judgment.  "It  is  said  that  John  Huss,  when  tied  to  the  stake 
at  Constance,  wore  a  smile  of  supreme  joy  when  he  perceived 
a  peasant  in  the  crowd,  bringing  straw  from  the  roof  of  his 
hut  to  light  the  fire.  .  .  .  The  martyr  recognized  in  this  man 
a  brother  in  sincerity;  he  was  glad  to  find  himself  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  disinterested  conviction."1  Each  of  us  is  working 
out  some  aspect  of  truth;  others  are  toiling  away  at  some  other 
aspect.  The  time  may  come  for  us  to  compare  notes,  to  ex- 
change results,  to  widen  our  mental  horizon  by  accepting  the 
discoveries  of  our  neighbors.  We  often  learn  more  from 
opponents  than  from  allies.  Controversy  and  debate  are  often 
sorry  affairs  and  leave  the  members  on  each  side  certain  that 
its  champion  has  triumphed.  But  both  go  home  to  medi- 
tate, and,  finally,  unconsciously  to  themselves,  to  absorb  and 
assimilate  the  element  of  truth  advanced  by  the  opposition. 

Religion  is  an  aspiration  after  ideal  goodness,  beauty,  and 
truth.  It  is  never  complete  attainment.  Indeed,  to  say  of  a 
man  that  he  is  "finished,"  is  to  say  he  is  a  corpse.  When 
one  imagines  himself  complete,  he  is  already  bankrupt. 

1  Guyau,  J  he  Non-Religion  of  the  Future,  p.  18. 


264  Social  Elements 


( 


Religion,  being  human,  is  real.  It  is  not  something  manu- 
factured, like  those  Japanese  artificial  water  flowers,  which 
seem  to  grow  when  put  in  water,  but  really  only  swell  out  and 
simulate  growth.  Religion  is  not  the  cunning  contrivance  of 
priestly  castes  bent  on  gain  and  power.  No  doubt  greed  for 
gain  and  influence,  with  many  other  bad  motives,  has  affected 
ecclesiastical  development,  but  superstition  and  avarice  are 
not  full  explanations.  Humanity  is  weak,  imperfect,  and  sin- 
ful, but  it  is  not  so  easily  duped  as  the  theory  of  fraud  implies. 
It  is  nearer  the  truth  to  say  that  religion  makes  pastors  and 
priests.     The  marks  of  the  imperfect  tools  are  on  them. 

Love  of  art  builds  museums  and  establishes  schools  of  draw- 
ing, painting,  and  sculpture.  Justice  erects  court-houses  and 
maintains  police.  Love  of  learning  endows  schools  of  teach- 
ing and  research.  All  great  institutions  are  the  products  of 
man's  desires,  aspirations,  wills.  The  explanation  by  dupery 
and  superstition  is  too  simple  and  too  shallow.  Men  may  be 
in  error,  and  they  often  have  been  grossly  in  error.  But  they 
have  sought  truth  and  searched  for  the  divine,  and  the  quest 
has  been  real.  This  quest  is  religion,  worship,  even  if  it 
find  no  tongue,  even  if  it  be  of  "the  silent  sort." 

III.  Religion  has  a  History.  —  If  we  turn  from  the  immedi- 
ate causes  of  religious  institutions  to  the  history  of  religion, 
and  ask  the  past  to  help  us  interpret  the  present,  we  shall 
have  before  us  one  of  the  most  interesting,  difficult,  and  noble 
of  intellectual  pursuits.  Students  of  comparative  and  histori- 
cal religion  are  busy  with  this  inquiry.  They  have  studied  the 
worship  of  the  lowest  savage  tribes;  unearthed  the  altars  of 
the  earliest  human  beings  who  have  left  monuments  of  their 
devotions;  translated  the  sacred  books  of  India,  China,  Japan, 
Persia,  Babylonia,  Egypt;  interpreted  the  sagas  of  our  Euro- 
pean ancestors;  and  they  are  now  busy  arranging  the  vast 
material  so  as  to  make  out  the  meaning  of  this  strange  and 
eventful  history  of  man's  deepest  thoughts  and  desires. 

Religion  and  its  institutions  are  of  great  antiquity.  Science 
cannot  yet  tell,  perhaps  never  will  be  able  to  tell,  the  dates  of 
its  origin.  We  must  long  be  content  with  more  modest  state- 
ments. We  may  believe  that  real  human  beings  have  always 
had  some  kind  of  thought  about  the  Unseen,  the  higher  powers. 


Socialised  Idealism.     Religion  and  the  Church     265 


Certainly  as  far  back  as  authentic  knowledge  extends  some 
childish  faith  has  man i tested  itself. 

Practically  religion  has  been  a  universal  interest  of  man. 
Here,  again,  we  may  not  speak  too  confidently  where  data  are 
lacking.  The  gaps  in  reliable  evidence  are  very  wide*  lint 
it  seems  only  fair  and  reasonable  to  think  that,  since  almost 
all  men  have  a  religious  faith,  all  have* 

It  must  be  admitted  that  religion  must  have  a  very  wide  and 
rather  vague  definition  if  we  are  to  declare  its  universality.  All 
the  high  thoughts  of  men  about  science,  art,  law,  and  worship 
began  with  very  humble  germs,  and  grew  larger,  more  definite, 
more  adequate,  with  time  and  toil.     Religion  is  no  exception. 

Religion  has  been  a  powerful  influence  in  forming  the  family. 
The  earliest  worship  seems  to  have  been  closely  connected  l. 
with  the  graves  of  the  dead.  Certainly  ancestor  worship  was 
very  common,  if  not  universal,  among  all  early  peoples  whose 
annals  have  come  down  to  us.  As  the  father  was  feared,  loved, 
obeyed,  trusted,  and  was  the  protector  of  the  family  in  his  life, 
so  he  seemed  still  to  be  near  the  family  after  his  death.  There- 
fore savages  imagine  the  spirit  of  the  dead  to  hover  near  the 
last  place  where  the  strong  one  was  seen.  They  think  he  ought 
to  have  food  and  weapons,  as  he  had  in  life.  It  is  pathetic 
to  see  how  this  faith  is  realized  in  burial  customs,  where  rude 
pottery,  once  filled  with  the  accustomed  viands,  are  found  by 
the  bones  of  the  warriors,  dead  ages  ago.  This  custom  of 
making  offerings  at  the  grave  transformed  it  into  an  altar,  a 
shrine  of  adoration.  And  thus  family  life  became  closely  con- 
nected with  worship,  and  the  ghost  of  the  ancestor  was  the 
representative  of  the  awful  and  mysterious  Unseen.  This 
domestic  worship  bound  brothers  to  brothers  and  generation 
to  generation.  It  was  the  sanction  of  domestic  morality,  and 
the  will  of  the  dead  ancestor  was  the  first  form  of  law  within 
the  narrow  limits  of  the  family.  The  grave  became  the  door 
to  the  future  life. 

But  as  the  family  expanded  into  the  clan  or  tribe,  perhaps 
from  the  first  being  faintly  distinguished  from  the  clan,  the 
common  ancestor  became  the  common  deity,  and  thus  all  the 
beliefs  and  sentiments  of  a  larger  group  helped  to  cement 
them  in  a  common  life. 


266  Social  Elements 

It  was  in  the  tribe  that  the  medicine  man,  weather  prophet, 
sage  acquaintance  of  the  departed,  laid  the  foundation  for  a 
special  class  in  society,  the  priestly  class.  He  was  the  first 
representative  of  leisure  and  reflection.  It  was  the  priests' 
class  who  first  developed  each  of  the  sciences,  the  social  arts, 
and  the  laws. 

It  was  in  religious  creeds  that  the  earliest  ethics  found 
expression  and  formal  statement. 

It  was  in  religious  thinking  and  action  that  law  and  govern- 
ment had  their  rise.  For  many  ages  religious  and  civil  or 
criminal  law  were  not  distinguished.  In  the  Old  Testament, 
as  in  all  ancient  writings,  all  codes  are  mingled  confusedly, 
—  sanitary,  ethical,  criminal,  commercial,  political,  and  cere- 
monial. 

The  priestly  class  laid  the  foundations  of  science.  Other 
men  were  toiling  or  fighting.  It  was  necessary  to  have  a  group 
of  men  devoted  to  meditation  in  order  to  make  a  fair  begin- 
ning in  the  systematic  observation  of  nature  and  life. 

The  fine  arts  were  long  under  the  control  of  those  who 
originated  them  or  carried  them  to  their  heights.  Dancing, 
music,  architecture,  poetry,  and  all  other  arts  were  for  ages 
upon  ages  cultivated  almost  exclusively  for  religious  ends. 
Only  gradually  did  each  art  become  separate  from  the  ecclesi- 
astical rule  and  begin  to  lead  a  life  of  its  own. 

The  useful  arts  and  professional  training  have  been  largely 
monopolized  and  developed  by  the  priestly  class  and  in  the 
service  of  religion. 

It  is  needless  to  go  over  the  confession  of  the  sins  of  the 
priestly  guilds,  their  selfishness,  and  their  obstruction  of  later 
advances.  It  was  but  natural  that  a  profession  should  cling 
to  age-long  privileges  which  gave  them  influence  and  power. 
The  story  of  persecution  of  scientific  men  by  the  church 
leaders  is  full  of  sickening  horrors,  and  it  should  be  read  in 
order  to  prevent  us  from  slaying  the  living  prophets  while  we 
decorate  the  tombs  of  those  who  have  already  won  a  triumph 
over  bigotry  and  ambition. 

If  social  progress  is  the  debtor  of  religion,  it  is  also  true 
that  religion  owes  much  to  the  general  progress  of  mankind. 
Social  obligations  are  reciprocal.     Two  sayings  have  been  set 


Socialized  Idealism,     Religion  and  the  Church     267 

over  against  each  other  as  if  they  were  exclusive:  "An  honest 
man  is  the  noblest  work  of  God,"  and  "An  honest  God  is  the 
noblest  work  of  man."  Sober  reflection  will  reconcile  the 
element  of  truth  in  each  of  these  very  partial  statements.  Out 
of  the  infinite  springs  of  original  creative  energy  of  goodness 
man's  best  principles  arise,  and  his  progress  is  ever  fed  afresh 
from  this  well  of  eternal  life.  And  it  is  also  true  that  a  man's 
thoughts  about  nature  and  life  expand  with  his  experience  and 
investigation,  that  his  conceptions  of  God  become  larger,  more 
moral,  more  useful,  more  beautiful  and  sublime.  The  word 
"God"  is  like  a  great  ship,  which  stops  at  many  ports  in  its 
course  and  takes  in  cargoes  of  all  kinds  at  each  point  of  con- 
tact with  new  marts  and  communities. 

From  the  long  history  of  the  family,  religion  has  come  to 
think  out  the  meaning  of  its  universal  prayer,  "Our  Father 
which  art  in  heaven." 

From  a  varied  political  life  and  development  of  states,  with 
the  expansion  of  tribes  into  city  states,  and  of  city  states  into 
empires,  the  other  part  of  the  great  petition  becomes  clearer 
and  grander,  "Thy  kingdom  come,  thy  will  be  done."  The 
act  of  devotion  is  domestic  and  political. 

From  its  heroic  struggle  for  the  material  means  of  existence, 
its  tedious  contest  with  parsimonious  nature,  its  constant 
facing  of  starvation,  its  awful  uncertainty  as  to  the  economic 
to-morrow,  the  Son  of  Man  has  learned  and  taught  us  to  say, 
"Give  us  day  by  day  our  daily  bread."  Bread  will  not  keep 
long.  Industry  and  hope  must  live  on  daily  renewed  decisions 
and  gifts.  Religion  and  industry  ask  for  fresh  manna,  while 
prayer  and  labor  go  to  the  field  together,  not  begging  for 
release  from  constant  exertion  which  ennobles,  but  for  a  return 
in  fruit  for  all  painful  planting. 

Each  science  has  made  its  contribution  to  religious  thought 
and  feeling.  Geology  has  taken  the  idea  of  God  and  enlarged 
it  in  time.  Our  thought  of  the  Creator  is  affected  by  our 
knowledge  of  creation.  Geology  has  studied  this  creation, 
unfolded  leaf  by  leaf  the  mighty  books  in  the  vast  library  of 
the  earth,  and  discovered  footprints  "of  the  Creator  "  back 
in  more  and  more  remote  ages.  A  few  years  ago  the  creation 
was  a  story  of  six  thousand  years,  a  mere  speck  in  the  infinity 


L. 


268  Social  Ehmcuts 


[ 


of  time.  Now  the  college  lad  is  made  familiar  with  aeons  and 
cycles  of  time  during  which  the  solemn  procession  of  creative 
events  moves  before  the  reverent  mind.  Each  stratum  is  a  reve- 
lation of  the  Eternal. 

Astronomy  does  for  our  thought  of  space  what  geology  does 
for  our  conception  of  time.  The  idea  of  immensity  is  helped 
by  study  of  the  starry  depths.  The  revelations  of  the  telescope 
lift  the  mind  far  above  those  childish  pictures  of  a  universe 
only  a  few  miles  high  and  wide.  The  Ruler  of  the  universe 
is  measured  for  our  intellect  by  the  largeness  of  our  knowledge 
of  the  universe.  And  astronomy  has  been  a  direct  contribu- 
tion to  religious  imagination  by  its  opening  up  new  systems 
of  worlds,  until  our  solar  system,  that  once  seemed  all,  now 
appears  to  be  a  small  colony  in  the  mighty  empire  of  the 
sidereal  heavens.  Chemistry  and  physics  have  cooperated 
with  astronomy  in  this  contribution  to  religious  faith,  for  they 
have  given  us  the  spectroscope,  which  demonstrates  the  fact 
that  all  belong  to  the  same  system  of  laws.  Thus  the  chemist 
may  feel  that  his  knowledge  of  the  materials  of  the  earth  will 
equip  him  for  further  laboratory  investigations  in  some  other 
world  to  which  he  may  be  transferred  when  his  labors  here  are 
suspended  for  a  moment  by  death. 

A  feeling  of  kinship  with  wider  circles  of  being,  a  fore- 
boding that  this  life  is  "but  a  suburb  of  the  life  Elysian,"  a 
prophetic  hope  that  the  range  of  thought  and  affection  means 
more  than  this  brief  existence  between  cradle  and  grave,  seem 
to  be  reasonable  in  the  light  of  modern  discovery. 

Thus  also  religion  grows  more  beautiful  with  art  and  offers 
a  finer  service,  if  not  more  sincere. 

The  social  function  of  religious  institutions  is  the  unifica- 
tion of  mankind  on  the  most  exalted  levels;  or  rather  the 
unification  of  mankind  in  an  upward  movement  in  which  the 
divine  attractions  of  the  Perfect  Life  are  at  once  the  bond  of 
affection,  the  object  of  faith,  and  the  inspiration  to  unceasing 
creative  energy  of  goodness. 

Public  worship  may  be  defined,  from  the  present  point  of 
view,  as  the  socialized  act  of  approach  to  God,  a  united  effort 
of  men  to  assist  each  other  to  realize  worthy  thoughts  of  the 
Divine.     Public  worship  can  do  for  men  what  private  devo- 


Socialized  Idealism.     Religion  and  tlic  Chinch     269 

tions  cannot  do.  In  the  great  congregation  thought  and  rever-"\ 
ence  swell  into  grander  expansion.  The  large  objects  of  noble 
architecture,  multitudes,  chorus  of  mighty  music,  assist  the  | 
imagination  to  form  worthier  conceptions  of  the  unspeakably 
sublime  topics  of  religious  meditation.  The  experience  of 
mankind  approves  the  custom.  Public  worship  is  a  social 
institution  which  thrives  where  freedom  is  perfect,  where 
compulsion  is  out  of  the  question. 

Public  reading  and  preaching  are  the  symbols  through  which 
the  divine  thought  enters  the  social  mind  or  is  intensified  and 
glorified  there. 

The  discipline  of  the  church,  expressed  in  admonitions, 
personal  warnings,  pastoral  visits,  personal  attentions,  criti- 
cism of  immorality,  exclusion  from  communion  for  unworthy 
conduct,  is  one  of  the  social  means  of  moral  purification. 
Its  social  importance  is  beyond  valuation. 

"  What  is  a  holy  church,  unless  she  awes 
The  times  down  from  their  sins?     Did  Christ  select 
Such  amiable  times?     The  whole  world  were  wrecked 
If  every  mere  great  man,  who  lives  to  reach 
A  little  leaf  of  popular  respect,  w 

Attained  not  simply  by  some  procedure 
In  thought  and  act,  which,  having  proved  him  higher 
Than  those  he  lived  with,  proved  his  competence 
In  helping  them  to  wonder  and  aspire."  * 

Social  unification  is  a  function  of  the  church.  "That  they 
all  may  be  one,"  was  the  prayer  of  the  Founder  to  the  Father 
of  all.  Like  all  ideals  which  grow  with  life,  this  ideal  of 
unity  seems  remote.  But  the  thought  of  it  has  arrived  and  is 
at  work.     All  of  us  feel  it. 

The  church  ought  to  seek  the  most  perfect  unity  in  order 
that  it  may  more  perfectly  fulfil  this  function.  "Religion 
being  the  chief  bond  of  human  society,  it  is  a  happy  thing 
when  itself  is  well  contained  within  the  true  bond  of  unity."  ■ 

The  sociologist,  therefore,  must  regard  with  hope  the  recent 
tendencies  toward  greater  courtesy  and  spirit  of  harmonious 
labor  on  behalf  of   humanity.     He  must  look  with  pleasure 

1  E.  B.  Browning,  Casa  Guidi  Windows. 

2  Bacon,  Essays,  Of  Unity  in  Religion. 


270  Social  Elements 


upon  movements  to  secure  comity  of  action  between  mission- 
aries in  our  own  frontier  towns  and  on  the  foreign  field.  He 
must  take  satisfaction  as  a  student  and  reformer  in  the  move- 
ments to  consolidate  sections  of  the  church  into  compact 
bodies,  with  larger  resources  and  fewer  impediments. 

"  To  the  sociologist,  what  keeps  the  church  most  alive  is  its  power  to  fit 
human  beings  for  harmonious  social  life.  The  church  is  a  brotherhood, 
but  it  is  something  more.  It  is  a  union  for  service,  a  bit  of  philanthropic 
machinery,  a  transmitter  of  opinion,  but  it  is  more  even  than  these.  It 
is,  in  the  last  analysis,  the  repository  of  certain  related  ideas,  convictions, 
symbols,  and  appeals  which  are  admitted  to  have  more  efficacy  in  socializ- 
ing the  human  heart  than  any  other  group  of  influences  known  to  Western 
civilization."  1 

It  seems  worth  while  to  quote  more  at  length  this  statement 
of  a  thoughtful,  honest,  and  free-thinking  teacher,  who  feels 
scorn  at  mere  clericalism,  and  perhaps  even  too  much  impa- 
tience with  some  of  the  doctrines  of  Christianity. 

"Does  the  human  heart  need  socializing?  Moralists  and 
reformers  from  the  days  of  Rousseau  and  Godwin  have  insisted 
on  the  goodness  of  human  nature,  and  found  the  root  of  all 
evil  in  bad  social  institutions.  But  the  sociologist  can  take 
no  such  rosy  view.  Whatever  his  origin,  man  has  undoubtedly 
come  up.  Social  order,  instead  of  being  spontaneous,  is  the 
formation  of  thousands  of  years.  The  self-restraints  implied 
in  social  life  have  been  slowly  acquired.  It  is  the  social,  not 
unsocial,  in  character  that  needs  explaining;  not  evil,  but 
goodness,  presents  the  greater  problem.  Rejecting,  of  course, 
the  dogma  of  total  depravity,  we  must  still  recognize  that  man 
brought  to  the  beginnings  of  society  only  the  feeble  altruism 
developed  in  the  relation  of  parents  to  offspring,  and  that 
even  to-day  social  character  is  painfully  dependent  on  influ- 
ences which  are  unnoticed  simply  because  so  unfamiliar. 
People  need  to  be  trained  or  developed  to  the  self-restraints, 
sacrifices,  unselfishness,  and  helpfulness  that  must  abound  in 
the  members  of  society  if  social  life  is  to  go  on  smoothly. 
Without  space  to  prove,  we  can  only  lay  down  the  proposition 

1  Professor  E.  A.  Ross,  The  Outfook,A\\g.2&,  1897.  Reprints  may  be  procured 
of  the  Educational  Church  Board,  No.  139  S.  Pine  Avenue,  Albany,  N.Y. 
Price,  each,  twenty-five  cents. 


Social  iced  Idealism.     Religion  and  the  Church     271 


that  the  harmony  we  actually  enjoy  is  for  the  most  part  due 
neither  to  the  coercion  of  law  or  public  opinion,  nor  to  the 
inborn  goodness  of  men,  but  to  extensive  changes  wrought  in 
character,  especially  during  the  early  years." 

Further  he  declares,  on  the  strength  of  much  evidence  from 
biology  and  history,  that  "we  dare  not  rest  the  future  on  a 
flabby  faith  that  goodness  once  acquired  is  transmitted  by 
inheritance  to  offspring.  Family  and  church  must  always 
work,  with  energy  and  unremitting  patience,  at  this  hard  task 
of  fitting  human  beings  for  social  cooperation  and  harmony." 
The  same  writer  asserts  that  the  church  possesses  equipment 
for  this  task  in  its  religious  belief  in  the  fatherhood  of  God, 
its  ideals  of  ethical  perfection,  its  union  in  worship,  its  his- 
toric ceremonies,  its  music.  "There  is  no  other  single  envi- 
ronment which  collects  within  itself  so  much  that  has  proven 
efficacious  in  the  regeneration  of  men  and  women  as  the 
church." 

IV.  What  will  be  the  future  of  Religion?  Is  it  to  be 
among  the  permanent  social  forces  or  is  it  an  evanescent 
dream?  Was  it  useful  once  with  savages,  and  will  more  civi- 
lized men  dispense  with  it?  Has  it  been  entirely  necessary 
to  bring  mankind  thus  far,  and  can  we  now  afford  to  dismiss 
it  with  compliments  and  thanks  for  its  past  services,  with  some 
satirical  references  to  its  mistakes?  Now  that  the  temple  of 
social  order  has  been  reared  are  we  about  to  find  religion  a 
piece  of  scaffolding  which  should  be  taken  down  as  unsightly 
and  a  rude  screen  in  the  way  of  our  enjoyment? 

There  are  very  learned  men  who  predict  that  religion  has 
seen  its  best  days,  and  that  science  or  patriotism  or  humanita- 
rian sentiment  or  philosophy  will  take  its  place  and  turn 
churches  into  laboratories  or  halls  of  amusement  or  arenas  for 
political  discussion. 

If  religion  has  always  been  a  human  trait,  it  is  probable  that 
in  some  form  it  will  be  a  permanent  trait  of  human  nature. 
Its  power  to  grow  with  all  other  growths  is  evidence  of  its 
vitality.  And,  furthermore,  the  occasions  which  gave  it  rise 
and  maintained  interest  in  it  remain.  All  science  is  of  the 
defined,  the  limited,  the  near.  But  science  itself  is  always 
turning  up  evidence  of  an  inner  power  and  life.     Science  is 


272  Social  Elements 


forever  enlarging  our  conception  of  the  word  "  infinite."  Sci- 
ence itself  leads  man  out  more  and  more  where  faith  and  hope 
and  boundless  affection  and  sublime  resolves  seem  more  than 
ever  fit  for  man. 

"  Psychologically,  the  bond  of  union  in  society  and  the  state 
is  not  law  in  a  legal  or  judicial  sense,  much  less  force.  It  is 
love.  .  .  .  The  highest  product  of  the  interest  of  man  in 
man  is  the  church.  This  brings  into  explicit  consciousness 
the  elements  involved  in  all  social  organization.  It  requires 
love  as  the  supreme  obligation,  and  it  brings  to  light  the  rela- 
tion of  this  love  to  the  perfect  and  universal  personality,  God  " 
(Professor  John  Dewey,  Psychology,  p.  343). 

Science  requires  religious  conceptions  as  uniting  idea  and 
principle,  and  in  this  it  is  one  with  practical  life.  The 
Roman  Emperor,  Marcus  Antoninus,  said:  "As  physicians 
have  always  their  instruments  and  knives  ready  for  cases  which 
suddenly  require  their  skill,  so  do  those  have  principles  ready 
for  understanding  of  things  divine  and  human,  and  for  doing 
everything,  even  the  smallest,  with  a  recollection  of  the  bond 
which  unites  divine  and  human  to  one  another.  For  neither 
wilt  thou  do  anything  well  which  pertains  to  man  without  at 
the  same  time  having  a  reference  to  things  divine,  nor  the 
contrary." 

Tennyson  gives  us  a  picture  of  a  sceptical  doctor  moving 
through  the  childrens'  hospital,  muttering  half  under  breath : 

"  All  is  very  well  —  but  the  good  Lord  Jesus  has  had  His  day." 

The  nurse  who  watches  with  divine  love  over  the  sick  weak- 
lings, washes  their  sores,  ministers  to  their  wants,  bears  with 
the  repulsive  sights  and  sounds,  answers  out  of  deep  instincts : 

"  Had?  has  it  come?     It  has  only  dawned.     It  will  come  by  and  by. 
O  how  could  I  serve  in  the  wards  if  the  hope  of  the  world  were  a  lie  ? 
How  could  I  bear  with  the  sights  and  the  loathsome  smells  of  disease 
But  that  He  said,  « Ye  do  it  to  me,  when  ye  do  it  to  these '  ?  " 

To  the  soul  which  has  trusted  the  Eternal,  found  life  and 
strength  and  joy  in  Him,  the  very  question  as  to  the  perma- 
nence of  religion  seems  unreasonable.     Marriage  for  a  limited 


Socialized  Idealism.     Religion  ami  tin-  Church     273 

season  is  founded  on  infidelity.  At  its  very  beginning  there 
is  an  element  of  distrust  and  suspicion  which  makes  all  uncer- 
tain. To  doubt  the  permanence  of  religion  is  to  doubt  its 
essence,  for  it  has  to  do  with  the  eternal.  It  is  from  the 
everlasting.1  It  is  easy  to  bear  the  idea  that  theologies  will 
change : — 

"Our  little  systems  have  their  clay; 
They  have  their  day  and  eease  to  be." 

But  the  life  which  theology  seeks  to  explain  has  its  roots  in 
the  Reality,  which  is  in  all  reality.  Sciences  improve,  but 
the  world  abides. 

Religion  may  seem  to  be  a  smaller  part  of  human  life  in  our 
day  because  the  outward  institutions  of  the  church  are  not, 
relatively,  so  much  thought  of  by  most  men.  Modern  life  has 
a  greater  variety  of  interests  and  of  legitimate  interests  than 
former  ages.  Business  is  on  a  vaster  scale;  cares  are  multi- 
plied; art  presents  its  attractions  and  requires  time  for  appre- 
ciation and  creation;  newspapers  and  libraries  bring  a  torrent 
of  ideas  to  the  mind;  social  enjoyments  are  multiplied  by  re- 
cent inventions;  political  questions  ask  service  of  citizens. 
There  is  neither  need  nor  time  for  protracted  sermons  and 
repetitious  prayers. 

But  does  this  indicate  that  religion  is  disappearing  from 
among  men?  Rather  does  it  not  mean  that  religion  is  sinking 
deeper  into  life?  It  was  never  intended  that  this  element  of 
our  being  should  be  an  isolated  thing,  apart  from  human  uses. 
The  Master  compared  faith  to  leaven  which  was  "hid  "  in  the 
meal.  If  only  the  very  spirit  and  essence  of  faith  and  love 
can  permeate  and  transfigure  all  duties  and  relations,  then  has 
the  divine  factor  done  its  perfect  work.  The  spring  that 
wells  softly  forth  "and  wandering  steeps  the  roots  of  half  the 
mighty  forest,"  and  goes  into  fibre  and  flower,  "tells  no  tale 
of  all  the  good  it  does." 

It  seems  altogether  probable  that  our  age  has  not  given 
itself  enough  time  for  meditation  and  devotion,  and  in  this  it 
has  the  defects  and  commits  the  sins  of  an  active  and  busy  age. 
Doubtless  we  shall  find  after  some  unhappy  experiences  that 

1  Here  study  the  sublime  images  of  the  90th  Psalm. 
T 


274  Social  Elements 


the  contemplative  life  is  necessary  to  feed  our  active  life  and 
save  it  from  shallowness  and  hollowness.  But  better  far  the 
useful,  energetic  life  than  one  given  over  to  droning  forms 
and  endless  prayers  to  heaven  for  individual  salvation.  Better 
far  to  spend  life  for  the  good  of  fatherland  and  the  poor,  for 
education  and  patriotic  service,  than  to  dream  dreams  and 
avoid  the  burdens  of  social  duty. 

V.  The  Social  Claims  of  Religion.  —  Religion  cannot  ask 
any  man  to  profess  what  he  does  not  believe.  It  must  not  ask 
for  blind  faith.  It  must  not  check  criticism  of  fallible  leaders 
and  erring  institutions,  It  must  not  be  thought  of  as  repelling 
suggestions  of  improvement,  for  life  and  betterment  are  of  its 
eternal  essence.  But  for  its  achievements  and  its  sublime 
range  of  thought,  religion  seems  to  deserve  reverent  treat- 
ment,  thoughtfulness,   and  sympathy. 

Sociology  has  a  certain  relation  to  religion  and  theology. 
Religion  is  the  popular  mode  of  realizing  the  unity  of  man 
and  his  environment.  Theology  and  philosophy  are  the  con- 
structions of  learned  men  given  to  systematic  reflection. 
Sociology  seeks  to  attain  and  give  a  unified  conception  of  a 
portion  of  this  universe,  human  society,  beginning  with  some 
local  community  and  extending  the  range  of  its  view  until  at 
last  mankind  will  be  compassed  by  its  theory.  The  comple- 
tion of  this  task  is  far  off  in  the  future.  But  our  studies  have 
already  helped  to  make  the  idea  of  solidarity,  unity,  commun- 
ion familiar  to  our  thought.  It  suggests  the  hope  that  with 
advancing  knowledge  we  shall  secure  ampler  evidence  for  the 
prophetic  belief  on  which  we  already  act  by  instinct,  that  the 
entire  universe  is  one  and  under  the  law  of  one  Intelligence, 
one  righteous  Ruler,  one  supreme  Friend. 

Philosophy  expresses  this  belief  in  this  form:  "A  single, 
active,  self-conscious  principle,  by  whatever  name  it  be  called, 
is  necessary  to  constitute  such  a  world,  as  the  condition  under 
which  alone  phenomena,  i.e.  appearances  to  consciousness, 
can  be  related  to  each  other  in  a  single  universe."1 

Coleridge  joins  with  Berkeley  in  affirming  the  demand  for 
a  divine  foundation  for  social  order  and  personal  dignity. 
"Whatever  the  world  may  opine,  he  who  hath  not  much  medi- 

1  T.  H.  Green,  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  p.  40. 


Socialized  Idealism,     Religion  and  the  Church,    275 


tated  upon  (iod,  the  human  mind,  and  the  highest  good,  may 
possibly  make  a  thriving  earthworm,  but  will  most  indubi- 
tably make  a  blundering  patriot  and  a  sorry  statesman.  .  .  . 
To  God^as  the  reality  of  the  conscience  and  the  source  of  all 
obligation,  t<>  tire  will,  as  the  power  of  the  human  being  to 
maintain  the  obedience  which  (lod  through  conscience  has 
commanded,  against  all  the  might  of  nature,  and  to  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul,  as  a  state  in  which  the  weal  and  woe  of 
man  shall  be  proportioned  to  his  moral  worth,  with  this  faith 
all  nature, 

'  all  the  mighty  world 
Of  eye  and  ear,' 

presents  itself  to  us,  now  as  the  aggregated  material  of  duty, 
and  now  as  a  vision  of  the  Most  High  revealing  to  us  the 
mode  and  time  of  realizing  and  applying  that  universal  rule, 
preestablished  in  the  heart  of  our  reason." 


CHAPTER   XIII 
The  Natural  and  Spiritual  Bonds  of  a  People 

Modern  nations  have  grown  by  the  union  and  coalescence 
of  smaller  groups.  The  earliest  of  our  ancestors  known  to  us 
lived  in  clans  and  tribes,  occasionally  joining  forces  under  a 
leader  for  war.  Out  of  the  federation  of  the  towns  and  sur- 
rounding country  grew  provinces,  and  provinces  united  to  form 
kingdoms,  and  kingdoms  have  been  consolidated,  as  in  Ger- 
many, into  a  mighty  empire. 

This  process  is  not  merely  something  of  the  past,  for  we 
may  observe  it  in  our  own  experience.  Each  member  of 
society  is  early  conscious  of  connection  with  his  narrow  do- 
mestic circle,  and  later  comes  to  care  for  his  neighborhood, 
his  club,  his  lodge,  his  friendly  correspondents,  his  church, 
his  country. 

/.  Like?iesses  and  Connections  in  Society.  —  It  will  not  be 
difficult,  with  some  reflection  and  observation,  to  find  illustra- 
tions of  the  distinctions  which  are  now  to  be  described. 
Millions  of  threads  run  up,  down,  and  across  the  community, 
weaving  all  together  in  firm  and  enduring  tissue.  The  stu- 
dent will  strive  to  realize  the  fact  suggested;  will  seek  to 
understand  what  it  means;  out  of  what  motives  and  causes  it 
has  grown;  to  what  duties  it  leads. 

The  social  connections  are  partly  spontaneous  and  partly 
selective  and  voluntary.  But  these  constantly  flow  across  the 
boundary  and  mingle  with  each  other. 

(A)  Spontaneous.  — The  "family  stock"  may  first  be  taken 
for  investigation,  since  it  primarily  grows  out  of  the  fact  of 
common  physical  descent,  but  at  a  later  stage  becomes  a 
purely  mental  representation.  It  is  true  that  this  bond  is  not 
so  strong  with  us  as  it  is  in  China,  where  some  of  the  poor 

276 


The  Natural  and  Spiritual  Bonds  of  a  People     277 

peasants  have  pedigree  tablets  which  enable  them  to  trace  back 
their  ancestors  many  hundreds  of  years.  In  the  Old  Testa- 
ment we  have  preserved  several  such  tables  of  the  ancient 
Hebrews.  Our  Aryan  ancestors,  the  early  Greeks  and  Ro- 
mans, maintained  a  worship  of  their  departed  fathers;  and 
this  domestic  worship  linked  one  generation  to  the  next  and 
held  clan  and  tribe  in  close  relations  of  common  duties  of 
defence  and  friendship.  We  no  longer  depend  on  those  who 
bear  the  same  name  for  support  and  protection;  and  yet,  even 
in  this  youthful  country,  where  memory  is  short  and  individu- 
alism is  so  strong,  we  often  collect  and  publish  family  gene- 
alogies. Sometimes  this  search  for  a  common  ancestor  is 
disappointing.  The  path  may  graze  the  gallows  or  run  back 
to  a  founder  who  was  not  a  man  to  be  proud  of.  "My  ances- 
tor came  into  Britain  with  William  the  Conqueror,"  boasted 
a  certain  noble  lord.  And  a  noble  commoner  tartly  asked, 
"Did  he  or  his  descendants  ever  do  anything  beside?"  The 
pride  of  stock  manifests  itself  in  many  ways,  some  of  them 
ludicrous,  others  serious.  There  are  assemblies  of  related 
families  and  correspondence  between  persons  of  the  same 
blood  who  never  see  each  other.  In  modern  times  this  tie 
has  been  weakened  by  migration,  by  the  dispersion  of  mem- 
bers of  the  same  lineage,  by  the  reluctance  of  moderns  to  give 
honors  merely  on  the  ground  of  descent,  and  by  the  demand 
that  each  person  prove  his  own  worth  and  value  by  his  own 
service.  So  far  as  there  is  a  survival  of  the  feeling,  it  is  based 
on  a  degree  of  belief  that  "blood  will  tell,"  a  belief  which  is 
made  more  rational  by  modern  biology.  It  is  presumed  that 
honorable  qualities  will,  in  some  degree,  follow  hereditary 
lines.  The  inheritance  of  estates,  titles,  libraries,  heirlooms, 
and  traditions  of  achievement  helps  to  keep  the  feeling  alive. 
Perhaps  the  tracing  of  genealogies  may  have  some  social  value 
by  acting  as  an  incentive  in  the  individual  to  preserve  the 
honor  of  the  name  in  times  of  temptation  and  at  moments 
when  heroic  sacrifices  are  required. 

The  neighborhood  sentiment  may  begin  with  a  physical  fact, 
that  of  proximity  in  the  same  region.  Families  who  have  no 
kinship,  who  differ  in  religious  creeds,  languages,  political 
opinions,  business  aptitudes  and  callings,  find  themselves  in- 


27 8  Social  Elements 


habiting  the  same  space,  farm  joining  to  farm.  Juxtaposition 
leads  to  relations  of  dependence.  In  harvest  neighbors  assist 
each  other.  Utensils  and  books  are  borrowed.  Children  go 
to  the  same  school.  The  followers  of  diverse  creeds  attend 
certain  union  services,  regularly  or  occasionally,  as  at  funerals, 
weddings,  and  holidays.  This  external  happening  to  be 
together  is  the  basis  for  a  weaving  of  reciprocal  influences,  an 
exchange  of  ideas  and  sentiments,  for  contracts  and  agree- 
ments. People  thus  brought  face  to  face  learn  from  each 
other,  copy  each  other,  adopt  common  ways  of  doing  things, 
and  thus,  on  a  physical  foundation  arises  a  spiritual  edifice 
joined  by  invisible  forces  and  attractions. 

An  interesting  manifestation  of  the  neighborhood  feeling  is 
seen  in  a  colony  of  persons  from  the  same  country  who  agree 
to  move  into  a  frontier  state  and  settle  in  the  same  locality. 
Thus,  in  a  northern  state  may  be  found  to  this  day  a  "  Ken- 
tucky settlement,"  a  colony  of  descendants  of  men  who  moved 
north  together  before  the  abolition  of  slavery. 

This  neighborhood  tie  has  great  social  value.  It  is  the 
beginning  of  patriotism.  The  neighborhood  has  natural 
boundaries  and  interests  special  to  the  locality.  In  cities  it 
is  especially  desirable  to  intensify  this  neighborhood  senti- 
ment and  make  the  most  of  its  attachments.  Cooperation  is 
prevented  primarily  by  want  of  acquaintance  among  persons 
who  have  been  drawn  to  one  spot  from  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
Only  in  direct  social  intercourse  does  the  face  light  up  with 
the  smile  of  recognition,  and  the  look  of  care  and  distrust 
fade  away.  Social  settlements  have  won  some  of  their  best 
triumphs  by  building  squarely  on  this  real  fact  of  a  neighbor- 
hood interest. 

Churches,  missions,  public  schools,  town  meetings,  politi- 
cal assemblies,  amusements,  recreations,  and  all  acts  of  coop- 
eration assist  in  the  strengthening  of  this  connection. 

(B)  Voluntary,  Selective. 

Trade  Connections. —  There  are  relationships  which  grow 
naturally  out  of  business  and  trade.  The  customers  of  a 
wholesale  or  retail  dealer,  the  clients  of  a  lawyer,  the  fellow- 
craftsmen  in  the  same  trade,  the  solicitors  of  the  same  line  of 
business,  are  brought  into  contact  with  each  other  through 


The  Natural  and  Spiritual  Bonds  of  a  People     279 

economic  interests,  and  friendships  spring  out  of  these  finan- 
cial relations  which  may  cross  seas  and  endure  the  test  of 
adversity. 

Classes.  —  It  is  the  common  boast  in  America  that  we  have 
no  social  classes.  Certainly,  democracy  has  been  carried 
further  here  than  in  feudal  lands,  but  the  fact  of  stratification 
exists.  It  does  not  appear  in  any  official  way.  Our  law 
ignores  it.  Geographies  cannot  bound  it,  north,  south,  east, 
or  west.  But  every  one  feels  it.  Many  are  embittered  by  it. 
The  fact  may  give  pain  or  pleasure,  may  be  disliked  or  greeted 
with  favor:  it  is  impossible  to  ignore  it,  thoroughly  artificial 
and  accidental  though  it  be. 

In  older  countries  social  classes  or  ranks  are  inherited  by 
families  or  social  position  may  be  fixed  by  royal  decrees  or 
acts  of  legislatures.  Perhaps  the  origin  of  social  distinctions 
was  in  conquest.  Those  who  belonged  to  the  conquering  race 
held  others  in  subjection  and  contempt,  ruled  over  them, 
despised  them.  But  conquest  itself  usually  implied  some  sort 
of  physical  and  mental  superiority,  which  was  recognized  by 
the  inferior  peoples.  There  were  natural  causes  for  the  pri- 
mary classification,  and  the  advantages  were  inherited  from 
generation  to  generation.  Unquestionably  these  advantages 
have  produced,  in  the  long  course  of  ages,  a  type  of  "gentle- 
men "  who  have  furnished  some  of  the  finest  elements  of  mod- 
ern life.  We  cannot  account  for  their  long  lease  of  power  as 
"ruling  classes"  unless  they  had,  on  the  whole,  some  gifts  as 
rulers.  The  modern  world  is  finding  the  exceptions  so  numer- 
ous, and  the  selfishness  and  injustice  of  the  feudal  rule  so 
great,  that,  with  universal  suffrage,  the  yoke  is  being  shaken 
off.  Henceforth  all  classes  are  to  compete  for  political  power, 
but  on  the  basis  of  individual  desert  and  fitness.  Still  the 
classes  will  long  continue,  with  their  pretensions  on  one  side 
and  the  lackey-spirit  of  descendants  of  serfs  on  the  other,  till 
the  antiquated  and  artificial  elements  fade  out. 

Social  classification  in  America  rests  on  different  grounds, 
chiefly  on  wealth  and  occupation.  Those  who  are  relatively 
rich  and  can  command  fine  houses,  indulge  in  luxuries,  and 
cultivate  fine  manners,  separate  themselves  from  others. 
Their  claims  are  more   or  less   acknowledged   by  those  who 


c- 


2b'o  Social  Elements 


look  upon  them  from  afar,  sometimes  with  admiration,  some- 
times with  envy  or  hate.  The  manifestations  of  the  classifi- 
cation are  in  the  choice  of  the  best  residence  districts  in 
cities;  in  the  exhibition  of  equipages,  dress,  and  jewels;  in 
attendance  at  the  finest  churches  and  the  renting  of  the  most 
desirable  pews;  in  the  selection  of  the  best  boxes  at  balls, 
operas,  and  horse  shows;  and  in  marriage  alliances. 

If  we  seek  for  causes  of  this  fact,  we  may  find  them  in  both 
natural  and  conventional  differences.  The  standards  vary 
according  to  local  circumstances.  In  a  purely  commercial 
community  wealth  is  far  more  essential  than  in  a  city  where 
great  educational  establishments  have  long  raised  the  respect 
for  learning  and  culture.  Traditions  have  great  power.  But 
even  if  the  artificial  and  offensive  marks  of  distinction  could 
be  effaced  the  differences  would  exist.  They  seem  to  increase 
with  civilization,  because  progress  implies  variation.  Such 
differences  will  always  show  themselves.  It  will  always  be  true 
that  superior  power  and  faculty  will  secure  superior  advan- 
tages, and  that  these  advantages  will  have  their  effects  in  per- 
sonal character  and  situation.  People  who  are  congenial  will 
live  together  and  have  companionship.  People  who  have  little 
in  common  will  prefer  to  seek  their  homes  and  companies 
apart.  If  attachment  to  one's  class  unfits  him  for  cordial 
participation  in  the  life  of  the  community,  in  its  educational, 
political,  and  religious  enterprises,  then  that  attachment  is 
wrong  in  degree  or  direction.  If  class  spirit  conceals  from 
one  the  highest  values  of  humanity  as  seen  in  the  poor  and  the 
manual  worker;  if  it  leads  one  to  regard  dress,  fashion,  styles, 
amusements,  and  conventional  etiquette  as  more  worthy  of 
time,  effort,  and  consideration  than  useful  labor,  intelligence, 
and  ideal  aims,  then  the  class  spirit  has  transgressed  the 
bounds  of  social  right,  and  stands  self-condemned. 

If  President  Garfield  did  not  describe  a  constant  reality  he 
certainly  did  express  a  noble  American  ideal  when  he  wrote: 
"There  is  no  horizontal  stratification  of  society  in  this  coun- 
try like  the  rocks  in  the  earth,  that  hold  one  class  down  below 
forevermore,  and  let  another  come  to  the  surface  and  stay  there 
forever.  Our  stratification  is  like  the  ocean,  where,  from  the 
depths  of  the  mighty  deep,  any  drop  may  come  up  to  glitter 


The  Natural  and  Spiritual  Bonds  of  a  People     281 


on  the  highest  wave  that  rolls."  This  is  a  sparkling  bit  of 
autobiography,  for  its  author  begun  life  as  driver  on  a  canal 
tow-path  and  closed  his  career  as  President  of  the  United 
States. 

Friendship  between  the  members  of  various  social  circles 
and  classes  shoot  golden  threads  through  the  social  fabric. 
Friendship  has  no  organization,  needs  no  constitution,  is  not 
limited  by  political  lines,  sends  its  messages  across  the  conti- 
nent and  around  the  world.  It  exists  between  members  of 
different  ranks,  opposed  parties,  conflicting  creeds.  When  a 
certain  belief  or  interest  threatens  to  divide  a  community 
along  the  line  of  some  partisan  difference  these  fibres  of  friend- 
ships bind  up  the  cut  and  give  it  a  chance  to  heal. 

There  are  seliools  or  tendencies  of  thought  and  taste,  of  con- 
viction and  belief.  There  are  similarities  and  attractions  of 
persons  in  relation  to  art,  science,  literature,  theology,  and 
politics.  For  example,  one  may  find  "  Hegelians  "  in  philoso- 
phy all  over  the  world;  "  Herbartians  "  in  psychology  and  peda- 
gogy; Single-taxers  in  economics  and  politics;  Socialists  in 
theory,  apart  from  all  organizations.  There  may  or  may  not 
be  any  association  or  correspondence.  The  bond  is  entirely 
psychical  and  needs  no  physical  expression  to  make  it  more 
real,  although  all  spiritual  forces  tend  to  embody  themselves 
in  some  institution. 

Very  closely  akin  to  the  "school  "  of  thought  is  the  sect  and 
party  feeling  and  attraction.  Waves  of  belief  pass  over  a  great 
community  from  individuals  or  influential  centres,  or  spring 
up  in  response  to  common  interests.  We  are  inclined  to 
regard  those  as  wise  and  worthy  who  agree  with  us.  Our 
sentiments  and  beliefs  return  to  us,  reflected  and  reverberated 
in  other  minds,  with  tenfold  force,  because  they  are  approved 
by  many.  We  feel  more  secure  in  our  positions  and  more 
confident  in  our  plans  when  we  belong  to  a  party. 

The  members  of  the  same  race  are  attached  to  each  other 
quite  apart  from  distinctions  among  them,  and  especially  if 
they  are  in  a  land  of  strangers.  The  beginning  of  the  dis- 
tinction lies  in  the  common  origin  and  physical  descent.  lint 
the  physical  facts  are  the  basis  and  occasion  of  prejudices, 
affections,  fears,  ambitions,  which  become  powerful  social  fac- 


282  Social  Elements 


tors.  American  states  present  the  "race  question  "  in  its  most 
interesting  forms,  for  here  are  the  African,  Indian,  Chinese, 
Japanese,  and  many  other  races. 

There  is  a  national  bond.  For  example,  the  Africans  in 
America  boast  of  their  citizenship  in  the  United  States  and 
have  shown  their  patriotic  affection  on  many  bloody  fields  of 
battle.  We  have  Austrians  whose  patriotism  transcends  the 
race  differences  between  Germans  and  Slavs.  One  cannot 
tell  the  race  of  a  Briton  by  his  citizenship. 

Those  who  speak  the  same  language  are  drawn  to  each  other, 
as  we  see  in  our  cities.  Wise  statesmanship  must  take  account 
of  this  bond  where  the  population  is  composite,  as  it  is  with 
us.  We  have  noticed  already  that  business  connections,  de- 
nominational creeds,  art  interests,  philosophical  studies,  may 
connect  the  members  of  various  nations  and  constitute  true 
international  bonds.  As  the  submarine  telegraph  supplies 
electrical  communication  between  nations,  so  the  fraternity 
of  ideas  draws  men  of  all  nations  into  an  invisible  federation 
which  seems  to  foretell  the  parliament  of  mankind. 

"  For  mankind  are  one  in  spirit,  and  an  instinct  bears  along, 
Round  the  earth's  electric  circle,  the  swift  flash  of  right  or  wrong; 
Whether  conscious  or  unconscious,  yet  Humanity's  vast  frame 
Through  its  ocean-sundered  fibres  feels  the  gush  of  joy  or  shame, — 
In  the  gain  or  loss  of  one  race  all  the  rest  have  equal  claim." 

—  J.  R.  Lowell,  The  Present  Crisis. 

We  are  enabled  by  this  sketch  to  understand  how  varied 
and  numerous  are  the  bracing  and  consolidating  elements  of 
a  great  community.  A  rope  of  many  strands  twisted  together 
is  a  faint  symbol  of  the  cords  which  hold  the  souls  of  men 
and  tend  to  make  them  one.  If  a  single  fibre  should  be 
broken,  the  others  may  hold.  And  these  threads  are  living, 
growing  realities,  becoming  more  intricate  and  extended. 

There  is  a  discussion  among  sociologists  over  the  questions: 
What  constitutes  society?  What  is  its  one  essential  element? 
Many  answers  have  been  given,  as  economic  interest,  common 
descent,  sympathy,  coercion  of  the  individual  by  the  group, 
imitation,  consciousness  of  kind.  At  a  later  stage  we  may 
give  more  attention  to  these  solutions.     But  let  us  imagine 


The  People.      General  Conception  283 

the  controversy  settled  and  ended.  Let  us  admit  that  some 
one  of  these  forces  should  be  shown  to  be  the  peculiar  and 
singular  mark  of  human  society.  Still  it  would  remain  true 
that  this  force  would  be  a  mere  abstraction,  meaningless  and 
powerless  save  as  it  grew  out  into  all  the  forms  of  attraction 
which  we  have  been  studying  and  as  it  transfigured  them. 
These  bonds  are  real.  The  cement  of  society  is  a  combina- 
tion, as  all  cements  are,  of  various  elements.  To  give  a  full 
account  of  social  organization,  to  state  all  the  causes  of  co- 
operation, we  must  take  in  all  motives,  from  lowest  appetite 
to  highest  aspiration.  All  that  is  common  to  a  large  part  of 
the  community  helps  to  advance  fellowship. 

The  attempt  to  simplify  life  may  destroy  it,  as  the  attempt 
to  reduce  all  thinking  to  one  idea  results  in  the  absolute, — 
Nothing. 


The  People.      General  Conception 

Within  the  geographical  area  marked  off  on  the  map  of  the 
world  as  the  United  States  there  are  living  about  70,000,000 
persons,  men,  women,  and  children,  of  various  ages,  classes, 
races,  and  stages  of  intelligence.  These  people  have  many 
modes  of  organization,  as  families,  associations,  churches, 
trades,  corporations,  unions,  clubs,  societies-  In  spite  of  all 
these  differences,  this  People  has  much  in  common  and  con- 
stitutes one  great  society  or  community.  It  is  in  possession 
and  enjoyment  of  one  undivided  territory  to  the  exclusion  of 
all  the  rest  of  the  world.  It  is  bound  together  by  common 
commercial  interests  more  closely  than  to  other  portions  of 
mankind.  It  has  a  system  of  communication  which  connects 
all  parts  by  ties  of  quick  intelligence.  It  has  common  mem- 
ories of  struggles  and  triumphs,  common  days  of  celebration 
and  holidays  unknown  to  other  peoples.  It  has  one  language, 
everywhere  instantly  intelligible  to  all  its  citizens.  This 
People  is  a  reality  and  not  a  mere  fancy.  It  is  a  vast  and 
impressive  fact,  worthy  of  study  and  consideration.  As  this 
very  fact  of  the  existence  of  a  people  or  a  society  has  been 
denied  with  contempt  and  scorn  as  a  mere  invention  of  literary 


284  Social  Elements 


theorists  and  metaphysicians,  it  is  worth  while  to  present  evi- 
dence that  we  are  dealing  with  the  most  real  and  fundamental 
of  all  actualities.  Of  course  if  there  is  no  such  reality  as 
society,  there  is  not  and  never  can  be  a  social  science,  for  we 
cannot  know  what  does  not  exist.  It  has  been  said  that  a 
society  is  simply  a  name  for  a  population  living  on  a  certain 
territory,  and  composed  of  persons  and  associations,  classes 
and  ranks,  whose  interests  are  at  perpetual  war.  In  such  an 
aggregation  of  conflicting  persons,  with  no  common  bond  for 
all,  a  community  is  unthinkable.  One  great  writer,  who  denies 
the  reality  of  a  society  as  a  unified  association  of  persons  in 
agreement,  affirms  the  reality  of  the  state,  that  mighty  institu- 
tion which  holds  these  jarring,  warring  contestants  together, 
prevents  them  from  eating  each  other,  and  makes  life  between 
seas  tolerable.  Let  us  examine  this  notion  thoroughly,  and 
see  whether  a  society  thus  eternally  and  essentially  a  mass  of 
mutually  repulsive  persons  could  ever  produce  a  state. 

Men  who  have  lived  under  absolutism  in  government  are 
prone  to  see  in  the  king  or  the  law  the  sole  fount  and  origin 
of  social  life.  In  the  imperial  diet  a  great  statesman  asserts 
that  a  constitution  was  a  present  from  the  ruler  to  his  people ! 
To  us  Americans  this  language  is  unintelligible.  Government 
with  us  is  from  the  people,  and  it  is  only  one  of  the  instru- 
ments of  the  character  and  will  of  the  people.  When  it  is 
said  that  social  life  is  base,  lucre-loving,  voluptuous,  and 
degrading,  we  hear  a  voice  of  a  distant  age,  a  dying  voice,  a 
fainting  echo.  It  is  near  the  truth  to  say  that  the  great  ideas 
originate  among  the  choicest  spirits  of  the  people,  are  propa- 
gated until  they  become  popular  and,  at  last,  after  many 
experiments  and  defeats,  become  a  part  of  the  government. 

Grounds  of  the  Belief  that  there  is  such  a  Reality  as  a  Society 
or  People  which  creates  and  maintains  the  State. — There  is 
the  solid  substantial  state  itself  as  a  witness.  All  admit  that  it 
is  a  unified  organization  of  human  beings  or  families  occupy- 
ing the  same  space.  It  is  the  work  of  persons,  not  the  product 
of  blind  natural  forces,  like  the  sand  dune  of  the  coast,  or 
the  channel  ploughed  by  a  glacier,  or  the  mountain  built  out 
of  coral.  Is  it  credible  that  a  society  whose  characteristic  is 
strife,  antagonism,  cannibalism,  could  produce  this  majestic 


The  People.      General  Conception  2S5 

spiritual  pile,  the  state,  with  its  unity,  firmness,  and  common 
glory? 

We  have  a  right  to  turn  to  the  words  of  men  who  have 
modern  minds;  who  are  not  under  the  spell  of  the  traditions 
of  absolutism;  who  are  accustomed  to  see  a  nation  act  in  con- 
cert, even  when  divided  in  opinion  about  some  themes.  We 
have  a  right  to  select  the  weighty  words  of  Abraham  Lincoln, 
one  who  had  a  profound  knowledge  of  the  very  springs  of  our 
life  and  prophetic  insight  into  the  dominant  forces  of  demo- 
cratic countries.  In  the  classic  Gettysburg  speech  this  noble 
seer  said :  "  Fourscore  and  seven  years  ago,  our  fathers  brought 
forth  upon  this  continent  a  new  nation,  conceived  in  liberty, 
and  dedicated  to  the  proposition  that  all  men  are  created 
equal.  .  .  .  That  we  here  highly  resolve  that  these  dead 
shall  not  have  died  in  vain;  that  the  nation  shall,  under  God, 
have  a  new  birth  of  freedom;  and  that  government  of  the 
people,  by  the  people,  and  for  the  people  shall  not  perish 
from  the  earth."  Plain  men,  unused  to  refinements  of  theory, 
understood  what  he  meant  and  felt  its  power.  The  words 
"nation"  and  "people"  meant  something,  some  one  great 
thing,  to  them,  as  it  does  to  us  all.  And  again,  in  February, 
1 86 1  :  "I  must  rely  upon  you,  upon  the  people  of  the  whole 
country,  for  their  support;  and,  with  their  sustaining  aid, 
even  I,  humble  as  I  am,  cannot  fail  to  carry  the  ship  of  state 
safely  through  the  storm. "  And  again :  "  Why  should  there  not 
be  a  patient  confidence  in  the  ultimate  justice  of  the  people?  " 

The  occupation  of  a  common  territory  is  the  physical  basis 
of  a  united  society,  a  Folk.  Occupation  of  the  same  plain  or 
valley  would  not  mean  society  with  plants  or  animals,  for  the 
capacity  for  social  community  is  not  in  them.  A  mass,  a 
herd,  a  swarm,  are  not  yet  full  society.  But  when  a  people 
dwells  in  a  space  and  covers  a  land,  all  objects  become  touched 
with  a  new  feeling.  Our  national  hymn  makes  this  appeal 
clear  and  beautiful : 

"  I  love  thy  rocks  and  rills, 
Thy  woods  and  templed  hills." 

There  are  the  houses  where  our  loved  and  our  honored  were 
born  and  reared.     Under  the  oaks  and  willows  of  our  ceme- 


286  Social  Elements 


teries  rest  the  ashes  of  our  dead.  In  hallowed  places  gray- 
headed  comrades  recite  the  story  of  battles  won  for  great 
convictions.  To  such  memories  Lincoln  appealed  in  his  first 
inaugural,  before  the  irrevocable  step  was  taken  which  plunged 
the  nation  into  war :  "  I  am  loath  to  close.  We  are  not  enemies, 
but  friends.  We  must  not  be  enemies.  Though  passion  may 
have  strained,  it  must  not  break  our  bonds  of  affection.  The 
mystic  cord  of  memory,  stretching  from  every  battle-field  and 
patriot  grave  to  every  living  heart  and  hearthstone  all  over  this 
broad  land,  will  yet  swell  the  chorus  of  the  Union,  when  again 
touched,  as  surely  they  will  be,  by  the  better  angels  of  our 
nature."  Years  have  passed,  and  now,  without  severity  of 
judgment,  with  bonds  of  affection  renewed,  verdure  clothes 
the  patriot  graves  and  tender  hands  lay  flowers  on  all  alike, 
whether  of  blue  or  gray.  War  was  a  spasm  of  error  and 
passion;  union  is  the  deeper  fact,  the  enduring  reality,  and 
every  hill  and  farm  witnesses  to  some  common  heritage.  The 
very  earth  is  humanized,  socialized,  by  the  presence  of  a  people. 
Economic  interests  seem  to  be  an  exception  and  to  present 
the  spectacle  of  a  war  of  all  against  all.  Of  this  we  have 
spoken  in  the  proper  place,  but  even  here  let  us  notice  that 
competition  is  not  the  only  fact  in  business,  though  it  is  one. 
We  must  admit  that  between  persons  and  classes  these  differ- 
ences of  interest  are  real,  terrible,  and  provocative  of  an- 
tagonisms bitter  and  relentless.  This  conflict  for  possessions 
and  power  seems  rooted  in  all  forms  of  living  beings.  All 
devices  proposed  to  remove  the  necessity  of  struggle  and  rivalry 
seem  to  promise  stagnation,  loss  of  energy  and  faculty.  Let 
us  admit  the  fact  of  tragic  conflict,  and  admit  it  to  be,  for  all 
practical  purposes,  permanent.  Certainly  it  will  endure  our 
time  through.  But  antagonism  does  not  exclude  unity,  con- 
tract, and  cooperation.  Reason  sits  supreme  even  at  the 
jousts.  Not  here  are  we  pleading  for  an  unrealized  and  pious 
wish  to  be  fulfilled,  for  something  millennial  and  remote.  Here 
is  a  contemporary  fact,  one  that  may  be  observed  of  all  and 
which  is  full  of  promise  of  better  things  akin.  Lawyers  are 
competitors,  and  not  always  lovely  fighters  at  the  bar.  Yet 
even  there,  arrayed  on  opposing  sides,  contending  for  vast 
moneyed  interests,  for  honor  and  for  success,  they  seldom  for- 


The  People.     General  Conception  287 

get  to  call  each  other  "brother."  It  is  not  all  form.  Physi- 
cians are  competitors  for  business;  and  yet  they  have  clubs 
and  associations  where  their  science  and  their  professional 
art  make  them  forget  the  meaner  instincts  of  rivalry.  Wage- 
workers  are  competitors  for  places,  and  yet  they  are  building 
up  great  societies  for  mutual  benefit.  The  famous  "bears" 
and  "bulls"  on  'Change  are  reported  as  being  in  perpetual 
strife,  and  yet  their  board  holds  them  to  a  common  agreement 
on  the  strength  of  a  few  marks  on  a  card.  They  may  fight, 
but  it  is  according  to  rules  formed  by  agreement  preceding  the 
competitive  acts  and  made  by  themselves. 

If  we  look  at  the  large  outlines  of  economic  affairs  over  a 
great  territory,  the  aspect  of  antagonism  almost  disappears 
from  sight,  and  nothing  remains  visible  but  a  huge  organiza- 
tion of  industry  and  trade  to  serve  the  wants  of  the  people. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  repeat  in  detail  all  that  has  been 
said  of  the  vast  network  of  bonds  of  every  kind  which  knit 
this  people  of  the  United  States  in  a  community.  Our  govern- 
ment itself  is  only  one  of  the  institutions  in  which  this  com- 
munity is  declared. 

Family  ties  are  braided  into  this  mighty  cable  of  affection 
and  interest.  In  New  England  dwell  the  parents  of  the 
makers  of  Chicago  and  Minneapolis  and  Denver. 

Language  is  a  common  bond  of  deepest  import.  It  is  true 
that  many  languages  are  spoken  among  us,  tolerated  with  wise 
patience,  and  even  taught  in  our  schools.  We  can  afford  to 
admit  variety.  Our  English  tongue  will  enrich  itself  from  the 
spoils  of  other  forms  of  speech,  as  it  has  ever  done.  A  com- 
posite people  will  require  for  the  expression  of  their  many- 
sided  life  a  full  vocabulary  drawn  from  all  sources.  But 
practically  all  comprehend  each  other  through  the  English, 
the  tongue  of  Shakespeare  and  Milton.  And  to  understand 
each  other  is  to  "come  to  an  understanding." 

We  have  already  a  great  literature  which  voices  our  common 
ideals.  It  is  not  inhospitable,  but  full  of  praise  for  Goethe, 
Dante,  and  Hugo.  Borrowing  from  all  older  literature,  our 
own  is  living  and  growing,  moving  toward  something  vast  and 
noble,  worthy  of  our  race,  and  creative  of  new  modes  of  higher 
living. 


288  Social  Elements 


It  is  true  that  the  church  is  divided  into  many  branches  and 
does  not  seem  to  stand  for  union.  It  must  be  confessed  that 
here  also  are  strange,  mysterious,  and  tragic  contradictions. 
But  after  all,  a  few  sublime  and  simple  ideas  and  impulses  are 
actually  common  and  serve  to  bind  all  hearts  together.  In 
two  directions  it  is  an  interest  which  passes  the  boundaries 
of  the  state;  for  it  stretches  its  influences  and  organizations 
across  the  seas,  a  truly  international  bond,  and  it  makes  the 
hope  of  immortality  a  social  bond  even  with  the  dead.  The 
church  cannot  take  the  place  of  the  state.  In  some  respects 
it  is  more  narrow.  But  it  is  also  deeper  and  larger,  and  serves 
to  draw  out  other  social  threads,  finer  than  silk  and  stronger 
than  steel. 

A  threefold  cord  is  not  easily  broken.  What  shall  we  expect, 
then,  of  a  bond  which  is  composed  of  millions  and  millions  of 
cables, —  material  and  ideal  interests,  hopes,  ambitions,  and 
affections,  all  woven  together  in  the  large  space  of  national  life  ? 

The  People  is  a  reality.  It  has  common  thoughts,  ideals, 
wishes,  will,  and  power.  It  can  follow  traditions  and  imitate 
examples,  as  a  person  can.  It  can  also  invent.  In  our  Con- 
stitution both  elements  are  present;  the  body  of  the  document 
provides  for  the  usual  order,  while  the  last  article  anticipates 
progress,  improvement,  by  suggesting  the  way  of  amendment. 
The  People  is  one  reality,  therefore  they  can  do  a  great  work. 
It  creates  the  state.  The  state  is  not  the  original  source  of 
those  millions  of  vital  and  spiritual  bonds  of  the  Folk.  The 
Folk  created  the  state,  upholds  it,  uses  it  for  its  own  varied 
interests,  educates  as  it  protects  itself  by  this  grand  instru- 
ment.    What  we  make  reacts  upon  us. 

The  Communities  of  the  People  and  their  Organization.  — 
The  life  of  the  Folk  organized  itself  by  communities,  which 
vary  in  size,  complexity,  and  various  local  characteristics. 
The  social  student  should  cultivate  the  power  and  habit  of 
observing  the  working  of  the  social  forces  under  the  varying 
conditions  of  place  and  history.  For  the  present  purpose  we 
notice  certain  forms  of  community  life, —  the  Family,  the 
Village,  the  Town,  the  Commonwealth,  and  the  Nation. 

Of  the  Family  something  has  been  said.  This  is  the  smallest 
community.      In  this  group  the  personal   relations  are  most 


The  People.      Gonial  Conception  289 


intimate  and  enduring.  The  most  intense  social  spirit  is  felt 
where  there  is  a  natural  tie  of  inheritance,  instinctive  sympa- 
thies, mutual  dependence,  prolonged  acquaintance,  legal  and 
economic  interest,  and  religious  agreement.  The  relation 
may  be  weakened  by  separation,  but  need  not  be  broken;., and 
frequently  by  correspondence  the  family  feeling  may  remain 
strong  and  influential  although  brothers  and  sisters  are  far 
apart  and  can  seldom  meet.  Migration  from  city  to  city,  from 
land  to  land,  and  change  of  language  and  citizenship,  forge 
new  ties  of  love  and  loyalty.  The  family  group  does  not 
depend  on  location. 

The  Village  is  a  familiar  group.  Here  the  social  relations 
rest  primarily  on  occupation  of  the  same  territory,  and  loca- 
tion is  important.  In  the  settlement  of  this  country  many 
families  have  drifted  to  certain  desirable  locations  on  account 
of  the  fertility  of  the  soil,  the  beauty  of  the  scenery,  the  con- 
venience of  a  harbor,  the  salubrity  of  the  climate,  or  the  oppor- 
tunity of  purchasing  cheap  land.  In  many  cases  the  settlers 
were  not  acquainted  with  each  other  at  the  beginning,  and  the 
only  bond  of  interest  was  locality.  But  out  of  this  juxtaposi- 
tion grew  up  other  ties,  as  of  industrial  interest,  friendship, 
religion,  and  politics. 

The  study  of  such  a  group  would  begin  with  a  careful  gather- 
ing and  arrangement  of  the  facts  about  the  natural  environ- 
ment, as  soil,  climate,  vegetation,  animals,  and  all  the  physical 
forces  and  influences  which  help  or  hinder  human  life  and 
enjoyment. 

In  the  next  step  the  history  of  the  people  should  be  studied 
and  written.  What  has  this  community  done  in  connection 
with  the  great  events  and  movements  of  the  state  or  nation? 
what  monuments  has  it  built  to  its  soldiers?  what  share  has  it 
had  in  developing  the  material  resources  and  the  educational 
system  of  the  commonwealth? 

Here  should  be  collected,  as  far  as  possible,  all  facts  relat- 
ing to  births,  deaths,  marriages,  migrations,  races  represented, 
and  the  causes  of  any  of  these  phenomena.  The  economic 
and  other  social  changes  of  the  past  should  also  be  carefully 
searched  out  and  described. 

The  student  who  desires  practice  in  social  observation  may, 
u 


290  Social  Elements 

with  a  convenient  outline  before  him,  make  for  himself  a  series 
of  local  maps  in  which  are  represented  in  various  colors  the 
location  and  character  of  all  the  visible  products  of  human 
art  and  industry.  The  maps  should  be  accompanied  by  a  care- 
ful description  of  the  systems  into  which  the  social  activities 
of  the  village  have  been  organized,  as  transportation,  com- 
munication, protection,  industry  and  business,  education, 
regulation,  government,  religion,  philanthropy  and  reform, 
voluntary  associations  for  improving  conditions  and  advan- 
cing the  better  life  of  the  population.1 

After  a  long,  patient,  and  painstaking  survey  of  the  history 
and  present  conditions  has  been  made,  the  student  may  vent- 
ure to  propose  to  himself  for  thought  and  inquiry  the  subject 
of  defects  and  of  reforms.  The  smallest  rural  village  will 
present  social  problems  of  surpassing  interest  and  importance. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  travel  to  London  or  take  residence  in  a 
social  settlement  of  a  town  in  order  to  find  a  field  for  investi- 
gation and  reflection.  Our  own  little  world  is  a  miniature  of 
the  wide  world,  and  he  who  thinks  great  thoughts  for  his  neigh- 
bors is  walking  in  sympathy  with  statesmen  and  prophets  of 
all  ages  and  all  lands. 

The  Town  or  City  is  a  community  with  a  character  deter- 
mined by  the  extent  of  territory  occupied  and  by  the  density 
of  population.  It  may  be  studied  according  to  a  plan  similar 
to  that  used  in  case  of  the  village,  only  that  the  increasing 
complexity  of  city  life  demands  a  corresponding  intricacy  of 
the  forms  of  investigation. 

It  is  common  to  think  and  speak  of  a  "city"  as  a  certain 
form  of  government.  This  is  natural  enough,  because  the 
government  is,  along  with  the  common  territory,  the  chief 
common  possession  of  the  population.  But  it  is  inherently 
false  and  vicious  to  consider  the  town  merely  from  the  political 
standpoint.  The  community  is  first  of  all  an  economic  com- 
munity, with  its  members  working  in  the  same  region  for  the 
attainment  of  the  means  by  which  all  life  can  be  supported. 
The  industrial  system  of  the  community  is  not  created  by  the 
municipal  government,  and  its  primary  motives  and  forces  do 

1  A  convenient  summary  for  this  purpose  may  be  found  in  Catechism  for 
Social  Observation,  by  the  author  of  this  book.     See  Appendix. 


The  People.      General  Conception  291 


not  proceed  from  law  or  its  ministers.  This  industrial  system 
is  only  in  small  part  organized  by  or  into  the  government. 
This  is  also  true  of  the  system  of  transportation  and  of  protec- 
tion, since  these  agencies  are  organized  in  a  measure  by  private 
enterprise.  While  a  great  part  of  the  educational  system  of  a 
city  is  managed  by  the  municipal  government,  very  much  is 
done  by  parishes,  by  individuals,  and  corporations.  It  is  a 
serious  error  to  regard  a  community  as  entirely  lost  and  ab- 
sorbed in  its  political  life,  important  as  that  is.  Indeed,  the 
tasks  of  the  government  itself  are  set  for  it  by  the  mighty  cur- 
rents of  popular  desires  and  aspirations  which  have  their  origin 
elsewhere. 

What  is  true  of  the  City  is  also  true  of  the  Commonwealth, 
the  next  largest  community.  The  government  here  defines 
the  geographical  limits  and  political  divisions  of  the  social 
life,  and  business,  schools,  and  churches  find  it  convenient, 
in  large  measure,  to  follow  these  lines  of  demarkation  and 
boundaries.  But  there  is  a  very  real  common  life  of  the  people 
of  a  state  which  is  not  taken  up  into  the  law  or  realized  by 
political  institutions. 

The  Nation  is  the  largest  community  which  has  the  legal 
forms  of  unity.  But  here  again  a  nation  is  something  far 
deeper  than  what  appears  in  laws,  legislatures,  and  govern- 
ments. There  is  a  depth  and  a  height  of  popular  being  and 
feeling,  of  thought  and  motive,  which  political  institutions 
cannot  express,  create,  or  regulate.  In  some  directions  gov- 
ernments are  taking  on  more  of  the  functions  of  social  work, 
as  in  schools,  colossal  economic  enterprises,  and  research.  In 
other  directions  governments  are  leaving  social  organization 
more  free  than  in  the  past,  as  in  the  case  of  religion,  sociable 
assemblies,  and  all  the  finer  and  more  personal  manifestations 
of  spiritual  activities.  The  fact  that  the  only  universal  and 
visible  institution  of  the  whole  Nation  is  its  government  should 
not  blind  us  to  the  truth  that  the  Nation  is  more  than  its 
government. 


CHAPTER   XIV 
The  State  and  the  Government 

"The  state,  if  once  started  well,  goes  on  with  accumulating  force  like  a 
wheel.  For  good  nurture  and  education  implant  good  constitutions,  and 
these  good  constitutions,  having  their  root  in  a  good  education,  improve 
more  and  more,  and  this  improvement  affects  the  breed  in  man  as  in  other 
animals."  —  PlATO,  Republic,  Book  IV. 

"  Force  cannot  give  right.  .  .  .  The  great  principles  of  right  and  wrong 
are  legible  to  every  reader;  to  pursue  them  requires  not  the  aid  of  many 
counsellors.  The  whole  art  of  government  consists  in  the  art  of  being 
honest.  Only  aim  to  do  your  duty,  and  mankind  will  give  you  credit  when 
you  fail."  —  T.  Jefferson,  Works,  I,  141. 

"  Universal  suffrage  may  give  the  power  of  unmaking  Order  by  making 
laws.  Our  federal  system  gives  us  a  safeguard,  however,  that  is  wanting  in 
more  centralized  governments.  Should  one  state  choose  to  make  the  experi- 
ment of  mending  its  watch  by  taking  out  the  mainspring,  the  others  can 
meanwhile  look  on  and  take  warning  by  the  result."  —  J.  R.  Lowell, 
7 'he  Progress  of  the  World. 

"  We  have  no  arbitrary  power  to  give,  because  arbitrary  power  is  a  thing 
which  neither  any  man  can  hold  nor  any  man  can  give.  .  .  .  We  are  all 
born  in  subjection,  all  born  equally,  high  and  low,  governors  and  governed, 
in  subjection  to  one  great,  immutable,  preexistent  law,  prior  to  all  our 
devices,  and  prior  to  all  our  sensations,  antecedent  to  our  very  existence, 
by  which  we  are  knit  and  connected  in  the  eternal  frame  of  the  universe, 
out  of  which  we  cannot  stir. 

"This  great  law  does  not  arise  from  our  conventions  and  compacts;  on 
the  contrary,  it  gives  to  our  conventions  and  compacts  all  the  force  and  sanc- 
tion they  can  have;  — it  does  not  arise  from  our  vain  institutions.  Every 
good  gift  is  of  God ;  all  power  is  of  God ;  —  and  he,  who  has  given  the  power, 
and  from  whom  alone  it  originates,  will  never  suffer  the  exercise  of  it  to  be 
practised  upon  any  less  solid  foundation  than  the  power  itself.  .  .  .  Name 
me  a  magistrate  and  I  will  name  property;  name  me  power,  and  I  will 
name  protection.  ...  In  every  patent  of  office  the  duty  is  included.  For 
what  else  does  a  magistrate  exist?  To  suppose  for  power  is  an  absurdity  in 
idea.    Judges  are  guided  and  governed  by  the  eternal  laws  of  justice,  to 

292 


The  State  and  tJie  Government  293 

-which  we  are  all  subject.  We  may  bite  our  chains  if  we  will,  but  we  shall 
be  made  to  know  ourselves,  and  be  taught,  that  man  is  born  to  be  governed 
by  law;  and  he  that  will  substitute  will  in  the  place  of  it,  is  an  enemy  of 
God." — EDMUND  Bukkk,  Speech  on  the  Trial  of  Warren  Hastings. 

"  Here,  then,  is  one  point  at  which  danger  may  be  expected.  The 
question  recurs,  '  How  shall  we  fortify  against  it?'  The  answer  is  simple. 
Let  every  American,  every  lover  of  liberty,  every  well-wisher  to  his  poster- 
ity, swear  by  the  blood  of  the  Revolution  never  to  violate  in  the  least  par- 
ticular the  laws  of  the  country,  and  never  to  tolerate  their  violation  by  others. 
As  the  patriots  of  '76  did  to  the  support  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,, 
so  to  the  support  of  the  Constitution  and  laws  let  every  American  pledge 
his  life,  his  property,  and  his  sacred  honor;  let  every  man  remember  that 
to  violate  the  law  is  to  trample  on  the  blood  of  his  father,  and  to  tear  the 
charter  of  his  own  and  his  children's  liberty.  Let  reverence  for  the  laws 
be  breathed  by  every  American  mother  to  the  lisping  babe  that  prattles  on 
her  lap;  let  it  be  taught  in  schools,  in  seminaries,  and  in  colleges;  let  it 
be  written  in  primers,  spelling-books,  and  in  almanacs;  let  it  be  preached 
from  the  pulpit,  proclaimed  in  legislative  halls,  and  enforced  in  courts  of 
justice.  And,  in  short,  let  it  become  the  political  religion  of  the  nation; 
and  let  the  old  and  the  young,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  grave  and  the 
gay  of  all  sexes  and  tongues  and  colors  and  conditions  sacrifice  unceasingly 
upon  its  altars."  —  A.  Lincoln. 

"  Find  in  any  country  the  ablest  man  that  exists  there,  raise  him  to  the 
supreme  place,  and  loyally  reverence  him;  you  have  a  perfect  government 
for  that  country;  no  ballot-box,  parliamentary  eloquence,  voting,  constitu- 
tion-building, or  other  machinery  whatsoever  can  improve  it  a  whit.  It  is 
in  the  perfect  state;  an  ideal  country.  The  ablest  man;  he  means  also 
the  truest-hearted,  justest,  the  noblest  man;  what  he  tells  us  to  do  must  be 
precisely  the  wisest,  fittest,  that  we  could  anywhere  or  anyhow  learn;  the 
thing  which  it  will  in  all  ways  behoove  us,  with  right  loyal  thankfulness, 
and  nothing  doubting,  to  do.  Our  doing  and  life  were  then,  so  far  as  gov- 
ernment could  regulate  it,  well  regulated;  that  were  the  ideal  of  constitu- 
tions."—  T.  Carlyle. 

"The  next  removal  must  be  to  the  study  of  politics;  to  know  the  begin- 
ning, end,  and  reasons  of  political  societies;  that  they  may  not  in  a 
dangerous  fit  of  the  commonwealth  be  such  poor,  shaken,  uncertain  reeds, 
of  such  a  tottering  conscience,  as  many  of  our  great  counsellors  have  lately 
shown  themselves,  but  steadfast  pillars  of  the  state."  —  John  MlLTON, 
Of  Education. 

The  form  in  which  political  facts  come  to  our  daily  attention 
in  the  newspapers  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following  extracts 
taken  almost  at  random  from  reports  which  appeared  during  the 
writing  of  this  chapter.  If  they  appear  disjointed  and  unin- 
telligible at  first  sight,  this  is  because  all  events  seem  to  us 


294  Social  Elements 


unrelated  until  we  learn  to  relate  them  in  our  own  mental  sys- 
tem of  knowledge  and  thinking.  It  is  not  the  purpose  in  these 
pages  to  offer  a  treatise  on  political  science,  but  to  show  the 
place  of  facts  of  the  political  order  in  the  general  scheme  of 
society.  From  this  general  survey,  which  will  assist  the  power 
of  comprehension,  one  must  descend  into  the  particular  dis- 
cussions of  civil  government,  law,  administration,  and  inter- 
national law.  It  is  hoped  that  by  presenting  the  relations  of 
these  subjects,  readers  may  be  stimulated  and  encouraged  to 
give  themselves  to  the  further  study  of  political  institutions. 
The  reader  should  collect  many  more  facts  of  the  political 
kind  and  classify  them  from  day  to  day  until  the  instinct  of 
classification  has  been  firmly  seated  in  habit. 

All  through  this  book  we  are  seeking  the  essence  of  the  inner 
life  of  our  own  society  by  a  study  of  its  institutions  and  endur- 
ing relations.  This  method  has  been  used  and  distinctly 
approved  by  a  very  important  writer  on  politics.  "  I  shall 
simply  take  the  peculiar  political  institution  which  each  of 
these  races  has  produced  and  to  which  it  has  clung,  as  expres- 
sive of  its  innermost  political  life  in  all  the  periods  of  its 
development;  and  from  this  I  shall  attempt  to  lead  up  to  a 
recognition  of  the  political  ideals  peculiar  to  each  race.  It 
seems  to  me  that  in  this  manner  we  shall  gain  a  surer  foothold 
and  shall  be  less  likely  to  substitute  fancy  for  fact."  1 

From  neighborhood  gossip  or  from  the  local  papers  the 
student  hears  that  the  township  trustee  has  recently  made  an 
appointment  of  a  certain  teacher  in  a  school  district;  and  in 
the  same  day  has  refused  poor  relief  to  the  family  of  a  drunk- 
ard. Complaints  having  been  made  against  the  superin- 
tendent of  the  county  poorhouse,  the  commissioners  institute 
an  inquiry.  The  records  of  the  same  meeting  report  that  they 
closed  a  contract  with  a  city  firm  for  the  building  of  a  new 
steel  bridge  over  the  creek.  These  reports  compel  one  to 
form  an  image  of  local  administration  of  township  and  county. 

One  morning  the  people  of  a  city  read  in  the  newspaper  an 
item  to  this  effect:  "hast  night  the  council  passed  an  ordi- 
nance voting  themselves  extra  salary  on  a  'grab  '  motion,  and 
passed  it  over  the  mayor's  veto  by  a  majority  of  48  to  16." 

1  Burgess,  Political  Science  and  Constitutional  Law,  I,  30. 


The  State  and  the  Government  295 

What  is  a  grab  bill?  It  is  a  vote  of  legislators  to  raise  their 
own  salary  after  taking  office,  it  being  understood  at  the  time 
of  their  election  that  the  salary  of  the  office  was  a  well-kr.own 
sum.  This  sort  of  an  item  brings  up  the  questions  of  the 
powers  and  duties  of  aldermen,  of  the  mayor,  of  the  courts 
which  decide  such  matters  in  law.  It  suggests  the  study  or 
ordinances  and  their  relations  to  a  city  charter  and  to  state 
legislation;  the  nature  of  a  veto  and  the  reason  that  it  can  be 
overborne  only  by  a  large  majority  vote.  If,  when  one  reads 
such  an  item,  he  at  once  learns  thoroughly  the  meaning  of 
every  term,  he  will,  the  next  time  he  sees  such  a  sentence, 
understand  it  at  once  and  exactly.  Still  better  is  it  to  master 
the  subject  of  civil  government,  and  then  all  similar  bits  of 
news  will  drop  into  their  proper  place  without  hasty  and  unsat- 
isfactory inquiry  on  each  occasion.  He  who  knows  govern- 
ment in  general  will  be  able  to  interpret  the  meaning  of  any 
particular  act. 

In  mid-winter  it  is  made  public  that  the  governor,  upon  the 
petition  of  many  citizens,  has  concluded  to  call  an  extra  ses- 
sion of  the  legislature  to  act  upon  various  matters  which  must 
be  decided  at  once  and  which  cannot  wait  for  the  regular 
biennial  session.  In  these  fragments  of  fact  the  young  citi- 
zen has  his  attention  called  to  the  government  of  the  common- 
wealth. In  a  regular  place  in  the  newspaper  there  appear 
news  items  about  decisions  of  state  and  county  courts,  civil 
and  criminal  cases  being  described  with  fulness  of  details,  and 
these  accounts  of  arrests,  lawsuits,  and  final  decision  direct 
thought  upon  the  judiciary  of  state  and  nation. 

While  Congress  is  in  session  at  Washington  the  daily  talk 
of  voters  runs  upon  the  speeches  relating  to  tariff,  supplies 
for  army  and  navy,  and  the  prospects  of  wars. 

Discussions  of  the  affairs  of  Spain,  Cuba,  and  Hawaii  com- 
pel people  to  think  of  treaties  and  diplomacy,  or  international 
relations  and  law. 

It  is  in  connection  with  these  daily  topics  of  conversation 
that  interest  in  politics  and  government  is  awakened.  The 
wise  citizen  will  take  advantage  of  his  own  curiosity  at  such 
a  time  to  gain  a  more  systematic  and  thorough  view  of  the 
meaning  and  relations  of  these   isolated  facts  which  come  to 


296  Social  Elements 


his  notice.  And  the  wise  teacher  will  seize  upon  them  at 
school  to  arouse  and  direct  study  of  the  great  subjects  of  civil 
government  and  the  history  of  the  age. 

/.  The  People.  —  Having  already  studied  the  meaning  ot 
this  august  word  and  found  that  it  carries  with  it  the  entire 
contents  of  social  existence,  we  now  turn  to  the  most  distinct 
and  commanding  mode  of  the  action  of  the  People  —  the  State; 
and  the  particular  organ  of  the  State  —  the  Government. 

The  State  does  not  absorb  into  itself  all  the  energies  and 
interests  of  the  People,  though  it  watches  over  and  protects  all. 
The  People  is  more  than  a  political  organization,  and  its  laws 
touch  chiefly  the  overt  acts  and  outward  conduct  of  the  popu- 
lar life. 

The  family,  business,  manufacturing,  travel,  arts,  schools, 
culture  associations,  religion,  are  other  forms  of  the  existence 
of  the  People,  and  are  often  independent  of  the  State.  Their 
freedom  from  State  control  is  guaranteed  by  common  convic- 
tion and  belief,  and  the  most  solemn  guarantees  of  the  Con- 
stitution itself  prevent  the  organ  of  the  commonwealth  from 
disturbing  some  of  the  most  important  functions  of  daily  life. 

It  is  very  dangerous  to  completely  identify  the  People  with 
their  State,  because  this  creates  the  impression  that  nothing 
can  be  done  by  free  invention  and  enterprise  until  it  has  been 
offered  by  some  superior  power  and  comes  from  without  and 
from  above. 

It  leads  to  intellectual  confusion  to  identify  the  State  with 
the  People  and  to  make  the  State  the  primal  origin  of  family 
and  business  and  art;  for  thus  we  must  fail  to  see  that  there 
are  boundless  creative  energies  in  man  which  the  State  should 
leave  in  liberty,  merely  regulating  those  extravagant  displays 
of  force  which  tend  to  injure  the  community.  One  who  lives 
under  a  government  which  leaves  little  liberty  to  the  people  is 
very  apt  to  think  no  other  mode  of  associated  action  can  be 
important.  Students  devoted  to  political  science  are  prone 
to  betray  a  bias  in  this  direction.  Their  intensity  of  inter- 
est in  a  specialty  may  keep  vital  elements  of  force  and  welfare 
out  of  the  range  of  their  mental  vision. 

II.  The  State. — Among  the  forms  of  organization  which 
this  People  possesses  is  its  Political  Organization,  which  in  its 


The  State  and  tJie   Government  297 


most  general  form  we  may  call  here  the  State.  And  this  form 
of  institution  is  so  complex,  so  wide,  so  difficult  to  compre- 
hend that  we  must  give  it  special  attention.  Since  the 
authorities  are  not  yet  agreed  on  definitions,  we  must  accept 
a  definition  provisionally,  giving  full  permission  to  any  one 
to  frame  a  better  statement  for  himself.  By  State  let  us 
understand  that  particular  social  institution  of  the  entire 
People  which  represents  its  supreme  power  within  the  territory 
which  belongs  to  it.  The  State  is  the  People  acting  and  liv- 
ing in  a  certain  way,  that  way  being  expressed  in  Law.  It  is 
not  some  body  of  persons  above  and  outside  of  the  People, 
but  just  the  People  declaring  its  will  and  asserting  its  right 
and  its  might. 

Since  this  general  statement  is  likely  to  seem  vague,  we 
must  make  it  more  distinct  by  particular  definitions  and  illus- 
trations. 

Heinrich  von  Treitschke  {Potitik,  S.  13)  says:  "The  State 
is  the  united  People  legally  organized  as  an  independent 
power." 

He  proceeds  to  show  that  it  is  not  the  totality  of  the  People, 
and  the  People  does  not  lose  itself  entirely  in  the  State;  but 
the  State  rules  the  external  life  of  the  People  on  all  sides.  The 
State  does  not  ask  about  the  disposition  and  inclination  of 
men,  but  demands  obedience,  and  its  laws  must  be  observed 
whether  willingly  or  unwillingly.  In  this  respect  it  differs 
essentially  from  the  Church,  for  this  institution  deals  with  the 
motives  and  dispositions  of  men,  and  in  its  view  mere  outward 
conformity  to  rule  is  nothing  without  inward  acceptance  and 
inclination.  The  State  uses  force,  if  necessary;  the  Church 
cannot  suggest  force  without  contradicting  its  essential  aim 
and  purpose. 

Characteristics  of  the  State.  — "The  State  is  cUl-comprehen- 
sive.  Its  organization  embraces  all  persons,  natural  or  legal, 
and  all  associations  of  persons.  Political  science  and  public 
law  do  not  recognize  in  principle  the  existence  of  any  state- 
less persons  within  the  territory  of  the  State.  The  State  is 
exclusive.  Political  science  and  public  law  do  not  recognize 
the  existence  of  an  imperium  in  imperio. 

"The  State  is  permanent.     It  does  not  lie  within  the  power 


2gS  Social  Elements 


of  men  to  create  it  to-day  and  destroy  it  to-morrow,  as  caprice 
may  move  them. 

"The  state  is  sovereign.  This  is  its  most  essential  principle. 
Sovereignty  means  original,  absolute,  unlimited,  universal 
power  over  the  individual  subject  and  over  all  associations  of 
subjects  (Burgess)." 

The  Ends  of  the  State.  —  First,  the  assurance  of  order. 
Without  security  for  life  and  property  there  can  be  no  social 
development,  for  the  ordinary  creative  activities  of  life  would 
be  absorbed  in  individual  struggles  against  encroachment. 
The  unscrupulous  strong  would  disturb  the  weak  in  the  pos- 
session and  enjoyment  of  their  wealth.  The  powerful  and 
well-organized  peoples  outside  of  the  nation  would  take  pos- 
session of  territory.  The  State  exists  in  order  that  men  may 
not  be  perpetually  uncertain  about  the  issue  of  their  toils. 
Second,  the  State  exists  that  men  may  enjoy  liberty  of  action. 
Liberty  was  not  the  natural  state  of  primitive  men,  but  it  has 
been  painfully  acquired  by  the  slow  formation  of  states. 
Third,  the  State  exists  in  order  to  promote  any  interest  common 
to  all  the  people.  It  not  merely  protects  associations  formed 
to  secure  certain  advantages  for  their  members  and  for  the 
public,  but  it  authorizes  organizations  of  its  own  for  the  attain- 
ment of  any  good  which  may  be  enjoyed  by  all.  Fourth,  the 
State  tends  to  promote  the  welfare  and  perfection  of  mankind. 
At  present  the  widest  organization  of  political  life  is  the 
national  State,  but  the  time  may  come  when  there  will  be  a 
parliament  of  man,  a  federation  of  the  world.  Of  that  distant 
day  we  can  only  hope  and  dream,  but  already  the  various  states 
are  cooperating  to  advance  liberty,  security,  peace,  enlighten- 
ment, and  justice  in  the  whole  world. 

The  following  condensed  summary  of  the  aims  of  a  good 
popular  government  is  worthy  of  careful  consideration :  — 

"The  modes  of  equality  that  enter  into  the  modern  demo- 
cratic ideal,  and  that,  on  grounds  of  sociological  theory,  are 
necessary  to  the  success  of  the  democratic  experiment,  are  the 
following:  — 

"  i.    Political  equality;  universal  and  equal  suffrage. 

"2.  Equality  before  the  law;  neither  wealth  nor  privilege, 
nor  vice,  nor  ignorance,  to  control  legislation  or  to  receive 
consideration  in  the  courts. 


The  State  and  the  Government  299 


i< 


3.  Equality  of  opportunity  to  serve  the  public  according 
to  the  measure  of  ability;  men  of  equal  ability  to  have  abso- 
lutely equal  chances  of  appointment  to  office  under  impartial 
civil  service  rules,  irrespective  of  party  service  or  allegiance. 

"4.  Equality  of  rights  in  public  places  and  in  public  con- 
veyances. 

"5.  Equality  of  sanitary  conditions;  all  streets  to  be 
equally  cleaned  and  cared  for;  tenement  houses  to  be  made 
decent  and  wholesome. 

"  6.  Equality  of  opportunity  to  enjoy  certain  means  of  recre- 
ation and  culture;  in  public  parks,  libraries,  museums,  and 
galleries  of  art. 

"7.  Equality  of  elementary  educational  opportunities, 
through  a  well-administered  public-school  system. 

"8.  Equality  of  fair  play;  especially  in  all  bargaining 
between  employer  and  employee,  and  in  the  relations  of  work- 
ingmen  to  one  another."  1 

The  Manifestations  of  the  State.  — We  are  familiar  with  the 
idea  of  a  written  constitution  for  the  State.  Back  of  all  gov- 
ernments is  the  supreme  law  of  the  land.  Governors,  presi- 
dents, legislatures,  courts,  and  all  officials  of  government 
look  up  to  that  document  as  absolute  over  all.  Its  authorized 
interpreters  are  the  judges  of  the  land. 

Not  all  the  will  of  the  People  is  expressed  in  any  docu- 
ment. Much  of  it  is  formulated  in  a  less  definite  way.  But 
higher  than  all  legislatures  is  the  will  of  the  People  —  the 
organized  State. 

The  government  is  a  partial  manifestation  of  the  popular 
will  and  power,  under  the  constitution.  It  is  created  by  and 
according  to  the  directions  and  limitations  of  the  constitution. 
To  the  government,  therefore,  let  us  turn  for  a  brief  study. 
In  books  on  civil  government,  law,  and  political  art  one  will 
find  detailed  descriptions  and  explanations. 

III.  The  Government.  —  Having  distinguished  the  People 
from  the  State  and  the  State  from  the  government,  we  may  now 
consider  the  particular  uses  or  ends  of  government.  In  reality 
the  government  is  the  institution  created  and  maintained  by 
the  State  to  carry  out  its  purposes;  that  is,  to  protect  order,  to 

1  F.  H.  Giddings,  The  Theory  of  Socialization,  p.  35. 


300  Social  Elements 


defend  liberty,  to  promote  welfare  of  the  People,  and  to 
advance  the  civilization  of  mankind.  The  person  who  rep- 
resented early  law  in  olden  times  was  he  who 

"  Sent  a  thousand  men 
To  till  the  wastes,  and  moving  everywhere 
Cleared  the  dark  places  and  let  in  the  law." 

The  Functions  of  Government.  —  It  costs  much  money, 
hard-earned  wealth,  gathered  as  taxes,  paid  out  to  officials, 
kept  back  from  direct  expenditures  on  desired  objects  of  en- 
joyment, to  support  the  State.  Why  should  men  endure  this 
cost?  Why  should  not  the  people  abolish  government  and 
govern  themselves  without  the  army  of  tax-eating  senators, 
congressmen,  governors,  legislators,  justices,  policemen, 
judges,  clerks,  and  this  whole  army  of  locusts?  People  are 
asking  this  question,  often  with  plain  declarations  that  they 
think  all  government  is  injustice,  waste  of  life  and  wealth  and 
energy  that  might  be  more  usefully  employed.  It  is  desirable 
that  the  use  and  usefulness  of  government  should  be  soberly 
and  intelligently  considered  by  all  teachers  of  youth  in  these 
days  of  fearless  and  unlimited  criticism  of  all  that  exists. 
There  is  no  reason  to  fear  that  a  reasonable  institution  will 
fail  to  make  good  its  claim.  It  might  be  well  for  the  people 
who  decry  all  legal  constraint  to  reflect  that  up  to  this  time 
the  whole  human  race  has  found  it,  for  some  reason,  convenient 
and  necessary  to  found  and  mantain  some  form  of  regulative 
apparatus.  Of  course  this  antiquity  would  not  justify  us  in 
retaining  a  burdensome  and  antiquated  institution.  But  a 
fact  so  ancient,  so  general,  so  universal,  deserves  at  least 
consideration. 

The  Value  of  Rules.  —  If  we  look  more  closely  into  the 
actual  reasons  for  government,  we  shall  discover  one  that  strikes 
us  at  once  as  worth  weighing:  the  need  of  a  common  under- 
standing about  ways  of  doing  things.  Cooperation  demands 
a  rule  of  expectation,  and  sometimes  almost  any  method  that 
may  be  counted  on  is  better  than  the  absence  of  all  rule.  It 
does  not  matter  whether  we  go  to  the  right  or  the  left  when 
we  cross  a  bridge,  but  it  is  desirable  that  we  know  what  to 
expect.     Ships  on  the  sea  or  in  channels  might  pass  each  other 


The  State  and  the  Government  301 

just  as  well  in  some  other  order  than  that  which  is  legal,  and 
they  might  exchange  the  green  light  for  the  red;  but  collisions 
happen  because  rules  are  broken.  Pilots  and  captains  of  ves- 
sels willingly  follow  an  arbitrary  code  of  signals,  fixed  by  mari- 
time laws,  because  they  know  that  safety  lies  in  a  common 
rule.  The  gold  dollar  might  weigh  a  grain  more  or  less  just  as 
well,  but  the  chief  thing  is  to  know  in  advance  exactly  what  it 
weighs.  In  China  the  bankers  adhere  to  the  old  custom  of 
cutting  off  pieces  of  silver  from  a  mass,  and  it  is  claimed  that 
the  customer  seldom  gets  more  ounces  than  his  bill  calls  for, 
and  he  usually  receives  less.  One  function  of  government, 
therefore,  is  to  define  terms  of  exchange  and  methods  of  doing 
daily  acts. 

We  need  a  government  to  settle  disputes.  Burns  would  not 
say  that  "men  are  villains  a'."     But  he  did  say:  — 

"  When  self  the  wavering  balance  shakes, 
'Tis  rarely  right  adjusted." 

We  require  an  impartial  tribunal,  of  persons  not  directly 
interested  in  our  disputes,  to  adjust  the  wavering  balance. 
Instead  of  standing  up  with  pistols  and  clubs  to  define  our 
rights  by  our  mights,  we  ask  our  sober  and  trained  judges  to 
define  the  just  in  the  case  in  question,  and  we  go  about  our 
business  while  they  are  weighing  the  matter  for  the  disputants 
and  for  the  millions  of  other  citizens.  A  case  decided  thus 
for  one  party  is  good  for  the  entire  nation.  We  get  a  rule 
and  we  know  how  to  manage  our  affairs. 

Government  is  required  to  curb  the  antisocial  members  of 
the  community.  There  are  very  hopeful  and  generous  men, 
mixed  up  with  others  who  fret  at  the  restraints  of  law,  who  tell 
us  that  human  nature  is  so  good  and  wise  and  kind  that  if  we 
left  all  men  to  do  their  liking  we  should  have  no  thieves,  no 
burglars,  no  outbursts  of  brutal  appetite  and  revenge.  Is  there 
a  shadow  of  reason  for  us  to  try  this  wild  theory?  On  the 
frontier,  before  society  has  time  to  erect  its  courts  and  jails, 
and  provide  its  detectives  and  laws,  we  hear  of  robbery  and 
nameless  crimes.  It  is  not  long  before  the  most  abandoned 
men  see  the  necessity  for  checking  the  selfishness  of  their  fel- 
lows by  some  means.     In  fact,  from  the  beginning  the  com- 


302  Social  Elements 


munity  is  an  armed  camp,  every  man  being  his  own  army, 
legislature,  court,  and  sheriff.  This  method  of  government  is 
soon  found  to  be  too  costly  and  hazardous,  not  to  say  uncom- 
fortable. Division  of  labor  follows,  and  certain  persons  are 
set  apart  to  perform  this  special  duty  for  those  who  desire  to 
go  about  their  farming,  fishing,  and  mining  undisturbed,  and 
who  prefer  to  pay  a  part  of  their  earnings  that  they  may  sleep 
soundly  at  nights.  It  is  ignorance  of  history  which  gives 
credence  to  the  sentimental  theory  that  human  nature  needs 
no  bit  and  bridle. 

"Tiberius  Gracchus  erected  a  temple  in  honor  of  liberty, 
with  a  sum  obtained  from  fines.  If  the  fines  were  just,  there 
was  no  inconsistency  in  thus  making  penal  justice  build  a 
temple  of  freedom;  for  liberty  demands  security  and  order, 
and,  therefore,  penal  justice."1 

The  government  is  an  instrument  of  producing  goods  and 
rendering  services \  All  civilized  peoples  with  developed  gov- 
ernments put  them  to  other  uses,  more  positive  and  creative 
than  those  just  mentioned.  The  government  is  the  tool  or 
machine  of  all  society.  The  shop,  the  store,  the  church,  are 
private  institutions,  supported  on  a  voluntary  basis  by  those 
who  belong  to  them.  But  we  are  all  born  to  the  duties  and 
rights  of  government.  It  is  not  something  over  us,  but  of  us 
and  in  us.  The  courthouse  belongs  to  all  citizens.  The  gov- 
ernor is  the  chief  servant  of  the  commonwealth.  The  presi- 
dent of  the  nation  is  the  chief  servant  of  the  United  States. 
If  we  choose  to  employ  our  public  servants,  who  are  supported 
out  of  our  taxes,  and  hired  to  perform  certain  tasks,  to  do 
what  all  tax-payers  desire  to  have  done,  we  have  chosen  a 
proper  function  of  government.  If  a  county  desires  to  have 
better  roads,  its  people  elect  officers  who  will  make  roads.  If 
a  city  thinks  it  can  supply  water  for  drinking,  cooking,  and 
sanitation  at  a  cheaper  rate  than  corporations  are  willing  or 
able  to  do,  that  is  a  wise  use  of  government.  There  is  abso- 
lutely nothing  which  the  whole  community  wants  which  it  has 
not  a  right  to  obtain  by  State  means.  It  is  highly  desirable 
that  this  idea  of  government  should  be  generally  held,  as  it  is 
coming  to  be,  because  nothing  can  make  it  so  acceptable  and 

1  F.  Liebcr,  Civil  Liberty,  Ch.  VII,  p.  74. 


The   State  and  the   Government  30  s 

reasonable  to  all.  If  men  are  in  the  habit  of  thinking  of  gov- 
ernment merely  as  an  instrument  of  repression  and  punish- 
ment, as  a  giant  holding  a  club  over  their  heads,  they  can 
never  so  love  and  adore  it  as  if  they  regard  the  State  as  their 
friend,  their  own  common  means  of  attaining  the  good  things 
of  life.  The  "night  watchman  theory"  of  government  makes 
it  hateful  when  it  should  be  loved  and  trusted. 

Government  is  the  organ  of  all,  not  of  a  part  of  the  com- 
munity. It  follows  from  this  principle  that  government  should 
not  be  used  to  supply  the  wants  of  a  few.  Indeed,  it  is  usually 
impracticable  to  establish  or  maintain  any  branch  of  govern- 
ment at  common  expense  unless  it  ministers  to  at  least  a 
majority  of  the  people.  There  are  forms  of  entertainment, 
perfectly  innocent  in  themselves,  which  ought  not  to  be,  and 
will  not  be,  provided  at  public  expense,  because  they  are  not 
desired  by  all.  For  example,  while  only  a  few  persons  care 
for  good  music  it  will  not  be  supported  by  the  municipal 
council.  But  when  the  demand  is  general  we  may  expect  to 
hear  a  public  band  discoursing  classic  compositions  in  the 
parks.  On  the  same  ground,  if  for  no  other  reason,  the  gov- 
ernment must  not  support  sectarian  establishments,  because 
these  are  not  common  to  all  and  are  under  control  of  parties 
in  the  State. 

Outline  of  our  Government  Organization. — The  social  stu- 
dent coming  to  the  border  of  this  great  territory  of  government 
is  like  a  captain  entering  a  port,  who  takes  on  board  a  pilot 
better  acquainted  with  that  particular  coast  and  harbor;  or 
like  a  Livingstone  who,  in  the  exploration  o^  the  continent  of 
Africa,  employed  a  native  guide  upon  reaching  the  confines 
of  a  new  realm.  The  modern  specialization  of  the  sciences 
has  assigned  the  province  of  government  to  the  professors  of 
political  science,  administration,  jurisprudence,  and  various 
subdivisions  of  these.  Those  charged  with  the  practical 
direction  of  government  are  politicians,  statesmen,  lawyers, 
judges,  legislators,  and  administrative  officers  of  all  ranks. 
The  student  of  society  accepts  with  gratitude  the  service  of  all 
these  specialists,  and  learns  from  them  the  more  important 
and  essential  elements  of  the  political  and  legal  organization. 
In  turn  he  seeks  to  show  how  society,  in  the  breadth  and  ful- 


304  Social  Elements 


ness  of  its  being,  creates  problems  and  makes  demands.  De- 
tails of  scientific  explanation  must  be  surrendered  to  the 
specialists,  but  every  intelligent  citizen  ought  to  seek  to  mas- 
ter the  essential  features  of  government  and  its  place  in  the 
great  social  system  of  which  it  constitutes  one  very  significant 
element. 

The  order  of  investigation  may  be  outlined  in  some  such 
way  as  that  which  here  follows.  Without  going  down  into  the 
spiritual  and  eternal  source  of  being  we  may  for  the  moment 
begin  with  the  will  of  the  people.  Philosophically,  that  will 
itself  must  be  explained.  Historically,  it  might  be  traced  to 
antecedent  causes  more  or  less  fully  known.  But  politically 
the  will  or  mind  of  the  people  in  our  own  time  is  ultimate. 
The  will  of  the  people  includes  all  that  can  properly  be  called 
common  in  their  thought,  wish,  and  purpose.  A  part  of  this 
purpose,  though  by  no  means  all,  is  expressed  in  the  Constitu- 
tion, a  word  which  may  be  here  taken  to  mean  not  only  the 
printed  document  to  which  the  Supreme  Court  appeals  in  its 
final  decisions,  but  also  those  well-understood  traditions  and 
beliefs  which  no  government  would  dare  to  contradict.  The 
Constitution  of  the  United  States  is  a  document  produced  in 
the  course  of  our  history,  and  which  provides  for  the  national 
government,  creates  that  government  in  three  departments  of 
equal  dignity,  but  with  different  social  ends, —  the  Legislative, 
the  Executive,  and  the  Judiciary. 

The  Constitution  of  each  commonwealth  provides  in  a  simi- 
lar way  for  the  government  of  the  restricted  territory.  Each 
state  has  its  three  departments, —  the  Legislative,  the  Execu- 
tive, and  the  Judiciary, —  with  the  necessary  administrative 
officers  to  carry  out  the  details  of  each  department —  military, 
civil,  criminal,  educational,  and  all  the  others  as  they  arise. 
The  government  of  a  state  is  subordinate  to  the  national  laws 
and  constitution.  In  the  later  chapter  on  Social  Order  some 
further  illustrations  from  law  will  be  given. 

Local  government  is  represented  in  the  political  organization 
of  cities,  counties,  towns,  townships,  and  districts  for  elections, 
schools,  roads,  and  other  purposes. 

Every  citizen  should  study  this  organization,  its  laws,  its 
modes  of  operation,  and  his  duties  in  relation  to  it;  but  this 


The  State  and  the   Government  305 

belongs  to  the  sciences  already  mentioned,  and  this  outline 
must  suffice  for  our  present  sketch. 

This  brief  survey  should  be  taken  in  connection  with  all  the 
subjects  of  previous  chapters.  In  geography  one  of  the  first 
steps  in  the  mastery  of  topics  is  to  "bound"  a  country  or  a 
state,  on  the  north,  the  south,  the  east,  and  the  west.  The 
science  of  society  enables  us  to  "bound  "  the  science  of  poli- 
tics by  describing  the  various  orders  of  association  which  are 
related  to  government.  No  man  understands  his  own  language 
thoroughly  who  knows  only  one  language.  No  person  can 
appreciate  the  value  of  political  science  who  considers  nothing 
but  government  and  the  legal  system.  The  grist  mill  is  under- 
stood best  by  those  who  have  studied  the  wheat  which  supplies 
the  materials  and  the  bread  which  is  the  end  of  both  grain- 
raising  and  grain-grinding.  By  these  illustrations  it  is  sought 
to  suggest  the  relations  of  sociology  to  political  science. 

He  who  makes  a  wheel  helps  to  make  a  watch,  and  so  do 
those  assist  who  polish  the  gems,  paint  the  dial,  shape  the 
hands,  coil  the  spring,  and  set  the  posts.  But  he  also  is  use- 
ful who,  though  he  makes  not  one  of  the  separate  parts,  yet 
"  assembles  "  them  all  and  fixes  the  place  and  duty  of  each  one 
in  relation  to  the  others. 

Government  is  a  merely  arbitrary  conception,  and  practically 
it  becomes  antiquated  tyranny,  unless  it  is  kept  at  every  moment 
in  living  contact  with  those  social  forces,  wishes,  hopes,  be- 
liefs, wants,  which  rise  up  outside  the  cabinets  of  presidents 
and  governors,  far  away  from  the  noisy  halls  of  legislation. 

The  government  is  in  close  and  organic  relations  with  all 
other  social  institutions.  This  must  be  so,  because  it  is  only 
one  of  the  ways  by  which  the  same  persons  act  who  are  living 
their  lives  in  factory,  banks,  mines,  homes,  and  temples.  We 
should  also  notice  the  reciprocity  of  this  relation,  for  each 
institution  is  at  once  giver  and  recipient  of  advantages. 

In  other  places  we  have  seen  that  each  social  organization 
is  provided  with  its  own  government,  and  that  it  attends  to 
part  of  the  training  of  citizens  for  their  public  duties. '  But  as 
individuals  require  a  final  court  of  appeals  before  which  all 
selfish  elements  may  be  struck  out  and  the  common  right  be 
chosen  and  asserted,  so  all  institutions  require  a  place  of  resort 
x 


306  Social  Elements 


where  their  differences  may  be  adjusted.  As  the  final  test  of 
conduct  is  its  adaptation  to  the  common  interest,  therefore 
the  organ  of  the  common  interest  and  will  must  determine  the 
right  where  question  arises. 

It  is  not  proper  here  to  attempt  a  systematic  discussion  of 
the  particular  regulations  made  by  governments  for  the  myriads 
of  associations  which  spring  up  in  all  free  countries,  and  it 
will  be  enough  to  select  a  few  illustrations  of  the  way  in  which 
government  affects  and  controls  other  modes  of  united  action. 

The  domestic  institution  is  not  the  creature  of  law,  but  it 
springs  from  the  most  powerful  physical  and  psychical  forces. 
Love,  esteem,  sociability,  economic  interests  and  advantages, 
religion,  and  many  other  motives  cause  the  family  to  arise  and 
furnish  the  incentives  to  its  support  and  activity.  There  would 
be  some  sort  of  domestic  institution  without  law  or  penalty. 
Probably  many  persons  overestimate  the  power  of  government 
in  directing,  regulating,  and  improving  the  customs  of  the 
home,  parental  and  filial  relations.  Most  people  are  not  influ- 
enced by  the  fact  that  divorce  is  easily  procured,  for  they  are 
held  together  by  affection  and  care  of  offspring.  Others  take 
divorces  without  regard  to  law,  and  separate  even  in  face  of 
severe  penalties.  Law  can  do  little  to  kindle  and  sustain  those 
delicate  bonds  of  sympathy  which  are  the  real  cement  of 
household  union. 

Yet  the  law  has  a  very  important  function,  and  social  interest 
demands  that  government  regulate  those  exceptional  and  ruin- 
ous acts  which  tend  to  disturb  public  order,  corrupt  morality, 
and  leave  weak  women  and  tender  children  without  the  foster- 
ing support  of  the  men  who  are  responsible  for  their  existence. 
The  law  represents,  as  against  brutal  excess  and  caprice, 
against  avarice  and  selfishness,  the  supremacy  of  the  common 
good  over  individual  egoism.  The  government  cannot  create 
happy  homes,  and  must  leave  that  to  nature  and  reason  and 
religion;  but  it  can  and  must  prevent  the  worst  effects  of  anti- 
social actions.  And  this  threat  of  penalty  has  its  effects  deep 
in  the  disposition,  since  it  compels  the  reckless  savage,  the 
impulsive  youth,  the  passionate  victim  of  undisciplined  indul- 
gence, to  reflect  and  consider  before  he  yields  to  impulse  and 
appetite. 


The  State  and  the  Government  307 


In  a  similar  way  the  government  does  not  create  industry, 
nor  set  flowing  the  springs  of  economic  enterprise.  Natural 
desires,  ambitions,  the  demands  of  every  hunger  and  thirst  of 
man's  soul,  feed  the  fires  of  industry  and  sustain  the  energies 
of  commerce.  It  is  not  necessary  to  pass  laws  urging  men  to 
plant  and  till,  to  build  railroads  and  to  mine  ores.  But  here 
again  government  is  necessary  to  direct  the  selfish  forces  of 
individuals,  to  curb  excesses,  to  protect  the  weak  from  being 
trampled  in  the  eager  throng,  and  to  point  out  the  limits  of 
aggressive  trade  and  competition.  Sometimes  huge  enter- 
prises, too  vast  for  private  means,  may  be  undertaken  by  a 
nation  or  a  commonwealth,  in  which  case  the  government  be- 
comes itself  a  great  business  manager  and  employer. 

The  government  does  not  create  the  incentives  of  culture. 
The  desire  to  know  truth  and  reality  is  not  the  effect  of  law. 
Here  also  government  may,  by  wise  provision  and  by  careful 
direction,  make  it  possible  to  advance  the  cause  of  learning 
and  to  diffuse  the  knowledge  of  discovery  and  invention. 

Most  of  all  is  religion  above  the  power  of  governments,  and 
it  flourishes  only  where  there  is  no  constraint  and  no  bribery 
of  conscience.  Hypocrisy  may  be  purchased,  and  cowardice 
is  cheap;  but  faith  is  sincere  only  when  it  is  voluntary.  Ex- 
perience shows  us  that  governments,  by  their  attempts  to  sus- 
tain the  Church,  are  really  impertinent  and  tyrannical.  In  no 
country  in  the  world  is  religion  so  richly  supported  as  in  the 
United  States,  and  here  our  Constitution  forbids  gifts  to  the 
ecclesiastical  bodies  out  of  taxation.  And  yet  the  government 
renders  indirectly  a  noble  service  to  the  ends  of  the  Church  by 
protecting  the  peace  of  worshipping  assemblies,  by  guaran- 
teeing defence  against  personal  constraint,  and  by  defining 
and  enforcing  the  great  primal  duties  of  civil  relations. 

Thus  examples  might  be  taken  from  every  one  of  the  asso- 
ciated enterprises  of  the  human  spirit,  and  it  would  be  seen 
that  government  is  everywhere  present  with  beneficent  direction 
and  protection.  All  human  works  are  imperfect,  but  law  is  one 
of  the  most  sublime  and  divine  expressions  of  the  reason  which 
dwells  in  our  race.  The  famous  passage  of  Bishop  Hooker 
cannot  too  often  be  repeated :  "  Of  law  there  can  no  less  be 
acknowledged,  than  that  her  seat  is  the  bosom  of  God,  her 


^o8  Social  Elements 


3 


voice  the  harmony  of  the  world :  all  things  in  heaven  and 
earth  do  her  homage,  the  very  least  as  feeling  her  care,  and 
the  greatest  as  not  exempted  from  her  power :  both  angels  and 
men,  and  creatures  of  what  condition  soever,  though  each  in 
different  sort  and  manner,  yet  all  with  uniform  consent,  admir- 
ing her  as  the  mother  of  their  peace  and  joy."  x 

IV.  Reforms.  —  A  series  of  political  reform  movements  is 
engaging  the  attention  of  thoughtful  citizens  in  this  country. 
It  is  clearly  seen  that  the  democratic  movement  tends  to  enlarge 
the  duties  of  local  and  general  governments.  Gradually  city 
governments  are  charging  themselves  with  functions  formerly 
performed  by  individual  citizens  or  business  firms.  Not  long 
ago  each  family  could  draw  water  from  its  own  well,  but  now 
this  is  impossible,  and  the  water  must  be  brought  many  miles 
at  cost  of  millions  of  dollars.  Formerly  each  family  could 
dispose  of  its  own  garbage  by  feeding  to  swine,  burning,  or 
burying;  but  in  a  large  town  the  waste  must  be  carried  away 
a  long  distance,  and  the  city  government  must  supervise  this 
function.  Our  fathers  carried  lanterns  to  light  their  evening 
walks,  but  in  cities  lighting  must  be  furnished  by  the  organ 
of  the  whole  community.  Our  ancestors  rode  in  their  own 
wagons,  but  very  few  people  can  keep  horses  in  a  city;  they 
must  rely  on  public  means  of  conveyance.  Thus,  also,  schools 
are  seldom  private,  and  the  city  is  burdened  with  the  institu- 
tions of  education.  The  municipal  government  must  supervise 
the  height  of  houses,  the  drainage  of  alleys,  the  conditions  of 
cellars  and  plumbing.  Innumerable  tasks  have  been  thrown 
upon  the  public  authorities,  and  the  end  is  not  yet.  Many  of 
the  demands  of  the  socialists  have  been  quietly  accepted  by 
millions  of  people  who  never  think  of  socialism  as  a  theory. 

It  is  seen  that  this  increase  of  governmental  tasks  requires 
a  superior  kind  of  officers  and  organization,  and  hitherto  the 
most  conspicuous  failure  of  American  cities  was  at  this  very 
point.  The  reform  spirit  is  rising.  Democracy  itself  is  in 
peril  in  our  cities.  If  self-government  fails  here,  it  writes  its 
own  doom. 

Electoral  Reform. — The  "Australian  ballot  system"  has 
been  one  of  the  important  steps  in  securing  purity  of  conduct 

1  Richard  Hooker,  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  I,  16. 


The  State  and  the   Government  309 

at  the  general  elections.  Under  the  older  methods  it  was 
common  for  the  partisan  bullies  in  cities  to  watch  and  intimi- 
date voters  at  the  polls,  and  there  were  corruptionists  to  bribe 
them.  There  was  a  crowd  about  the  place  for  this  purpose  in 
certain  of  the  lower  wards.  The  new  plan  includes  a  printed 
ballot  furnished  by  the  public  authorities,  independent  of  the 
party.  The  voter  is  protected  in  his  act  of  voting  without  the 
presence  of  any  other  person  to  discover  how  he  marks  his 
ticket. 

Primary  Election  Reform.  — Gradually  a  similar  method  is 
being  introduced  in  the  nominating  elections  of  each  party, 
so  that  the  independent  members  of  a  party  may  not  be  forced 
to  nominate  any  person  whom  the  rings  of  managers  choose 
to  print  upon  the  tickets.  Slowly  but  surely  the  people  are 
seeking  to  emancipate  themselves  from  the  grasp  of  profes- 
sional politicians,  who  prostitute  suffrage  to  their  own  private 
gains.  It  was  natural  and  logical  that  the  government  should 
follow  its  management  of  ordinary  elections  by  recognizing 
the  party  movement  as  one  stage  in  the  expression  of  the 
common  will,  and  not  a  mere  private  matter  which  may  be  left 
to  chance  and  to  the  struggles  of  partisan  despots  intent  on 
personal  profit.  Under  the  more  recent  primary  election  laws 
it  has  become  possible  for  good  citizens  who  do  not  like  the 
barbarous  methods  of  saloon  politicians  to  concentrate  their 
votes  upon  candidates  of  their  own  choice,  without  being  com- 
pelled to  wrestle  and  fight  with  rufnans  in  dark  and  question- 
able resorts.  There  seems  to  be  hope  in  the  near  future  of 
having  primary  elections  which  will  be  as  honestly  managed 
as  the  regular  elections  are  conducted.  Under  these  happier 
conditions  the  conscientious  and  patriotic  citizen  will  attend 
the  caucus  of  his  party,  or  will  seek  the  cooperation  of  like- 
minded  men  in  bringing  forward  independent  candidates  of 
the  highest  order  of  ability  and  character.  Whether  this  shall 
be  through  some  form  of  a  direct  ballot  for  nomination,  or 
through  the  selection  of  delegates  to  nominating  conventions, 
is  a  point  yet  in  dispute,  and  must,  with  other  special  prob- 
lems, be  debated,  and  the  best  way  found  by  trial  and  experi- 
ment with  different  methods. 

It  has  been  found  that  more  stringent  and  minute  regula- 


310  Social  Elements 


tions  are  necessary  in  the  crowded  cities  than  in  the  rural 
neighborhoods,  because  the  throngs  of  towns  make  it  easier 
for  a  rabble  to  gain  control  of  a  caucus  and  practically  drive 
away  or  cheat  citizens  who  will  not  resort  to  the  means  which 
are  natural  to  corrupt  and  vicious  men  intent  on  victory  at  any 
cost.  The  state  law  for  primaries  should  be  adapted  to  the 
differing  conditions  in  the  commonwealth. 

The  Corrupt  Practices  Act.  —  The  election  of  important 
officers  has  always  been  attended  with  more  or  less  of  bribery, 
improper  modes  of  influence,  intimidation  of  voters,  treating, 
and  similar  evils.  It  is  manifest  that  such  practices  tend  to 
debase  character,  to  pervert  the  opinions  of  the  people,  and 
to  lift  into  places  of  power  the  worst  sort  of  candidates. 
England  has  succeeded  in  suppressing  these  acts,  at  least  in  a 
high  degree,  by  laws  which  punish  these  offences  with  great 
severity,  and  which  compel  candidates  to  keep  an  accurate 
and  itemized  account  of  all  expenditures  connected  with  their 
campaigns,  and  to  return  this  account  to  the  proper  officials 
for  investigation,  supporting  their  statements  with  their  oath. 
The  states  of  this  country  are  gradually  introducing  similar 
legislation.  When  they  have"  become  general,  we  may  hope 
for  diminution  of  temptation  to  deeds  which  must  deprave  all 
who  share  in  them.  Law  cannot  absolutely  and  directly  pre- 
vent immorality  and  crime,  but  it  can  help  to  make  dishonesty 
difficult  and  can  open  for  virtue  the  path  of  least  resistance. 

On  the  Civil  Service  Reform  or  Merit  System  I  have  already 
published  some  sentences,  which  may  here  be  repeated,  as  the 
need  for  them  is  still  everywhere  apparent.1 

The  "merit  system"  is  a  mode  of  social  rational  selection 
to  assist  the  rough  process  of  natural  selection  to  weed  out  the 
unfit,  the  incompetent.  It  is  a  moral  invention  of  the  age  as 
truly  as  the  electric  motor  is  a  mechanical  technical  invention. 
The  merit  system  is  an  intellectual  relative  of  the  steam 
threshing-machine.  Its  function  is  to  exterminate  egoistic 
parasites.  It  is  offered  as  a  substitute  for  the  spoils  system, 
whose  chief  function  is  to  honor  the  lovers  of  themselves  and 
the  enemies  of  mankind,  and  to  heap  rewards  and  emoluments 

1  Proceedings  of  the  National  Conference  of  Charities  and  Correction,  1896, 
p.  382- 


The  State  and  the  Government  311 

upon  the  treacherous  and  the  incapable.  We  have  many  com- 
petent and  honorable  public  officials  even  under  the  spoils 
system;  but  that  is  in  spite  of  the  spoils  system  and  not  in 
consequence  of  its  legitimate  work.  Healthy  and  vigorous 
people  are  sometimes  found  surviving  in  malarious  districts, 
but  malaria  did  not  produce  health.  To  define  the  merit 
system  is  to  recommend  it.  To  define  the  spoils  system  is  to 
damn  it.  Society  is  required  by  its  interest  and  its  sympathy 
to  support  defectives  and  delinquents  in  its  institutions,  but 
it  is  not  under  obligation  to  put  defectives  and  delinquents  in 
charge  of  its  institutions  as  a  reward  for  treasonable  services 
rendered  to  unscrupulous  politicians.  The  "spoils  system" 
has  a  tendency  to  pick  out  the  men  who  disgrace  municipal 
politics  and  reward  their  unclean  and  selfish  industry  with 
titles  and  salaries.  The  merit  system  aims  (1)  to  examine 
candidates  and  apply  tests  which  exclude  at  one  stroke  a  mass 
of  impudence,  greed,  ignorance,  and  imbecility;  (2)  to  sub- 
ject the  novitiates  to  a  probation  which  will  bolt  out  the  bran 
which  is  left,  even  after  chaff  and  weeds  have  been  winnowed 
away  by  the  examination;  (3)  to  offer  inducements  to  public 
servants  to  do  their  very  best  through  hope  of  recognition  and 
promotion;  (4)  to  enable  them  by  security  of  tenure  to  give 
their  entire  and  undistracted  thought  to  the  technical  duties 
of  their  office,  undisturbed  by  the  hurly-burly  of  local  politics; 
(5)  to  open  the  service  to  the  poor  and  to  the  rich,  to  the 
entire  people  without  partiality  for  social  position,  sect,  or 
party.  The  spoils  system  tends  to  demoralize  the  public  by 
the  display  of  honors  given  to  the  unfit  for  treachery  to  the 
public,  and  it  diverts  attention  from  the  chief  moral  reason 
for  office-holding,  that  it  is  an  opportunity  for  serving  the 
common  weal.  So  long  as  the  head  of  a  public  department 
must  be  constantly  looking  after  votes  and  wire-pulling  schemes, 
he  cannot  have  time  and  strength  for  his  duties.  The  merit 
system  is  demanded  by  our  national  honor  before  the  civilized 
world.  The  spoils  system  is  practically  unknown  in  a  great 
part  of  Europe  and  has  been  nearly  suppressed  within  one 
generation  in  England.  The  worst  abuses  of  municipal  poli- 
tics come  from  the  fact  that  incompetent  men  can  hope  to 
secure  important  positions,  not  by  preparation  for  their  duties, 


312  Social  Elements 


but  by  doing  mean  and  degrading  work  for  the  "  bosses. "  This 
state  of  affairs  is  profoundly  immoral,  and  it  disgraces  us  before 
the  world. 

Charte?'  Reforms  in  Cities.  —  Perhaps  the  chief  difficulty  in 
the  working  of  our  democratic  institutions  of  government  lies 
in  adjusting  the  relations  of  city  to  state  government.  All 
over  the  United  States  there  is  vast  confusion  on  this  point. 
Charter  reforms  innumerable  have  been  proposed,  and  all  seem 
to  contain  conflicting  elements.  Our  cities  have  grown  so 
rapidly,  and  our  national  experience  has  been  so  long  chiefly 
that  connected  with  rural  life  or  small  towns,  that  our  huge 
heterogeneous  people  has  not  yet  worked  out  a  consistent  and 
adequate  theory  of  city  government.  It  would  seem  that  we 
must  find  out  what  duties  of  a  local  character  should  be  en- 
trusted to  local  authorities,  so  as  to  encourage  local  public 
spirit  and  give  scope  to  community  enterprise;  and  that,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  functions  of  more  general  government 
should  be  controlled  by  the  State,  through  suitable  and  per- 
manent bodies  of  administrative  officers. 

All  these  reforms  depend  for  their  ultimate  success  upon 
the  character  and  intelligence  of  the  voters.  There  is  no 
cunning  device,  no  mechanical  contrivance,  no  rearrangement 
of  political  methods,  which  will  secure  the  return  of  the  honest, 
capable,  and  high-minded  candidate  from  a  ward  or  precinct 
where  the  people  admire  another  type  of  man  and  choose  the 
corrupt  bribe-taker.  It  is  sheer  blindness  in  us  to  suppose 
that  the  people  always  desire  the  best  men.  It  is  not  true. 
Democracy  is  on  trial,  and  has  not  yet  fully  won  a  permanent 
place.  If  democracy  fails,  as  in  places  it  has  miserably  and 
disgracefully  failed,  it  will  be  because  education  has  failed. 
If  we  believe  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  popular  rule,  we  must 
"  educate  our  masters. "  None  but  a  mere  demagogue,  ignorant 
or  dishonest,  will  flatter  the  crowd  by  telling  them  that  they 
are  always  right.  Misery  and  loss  will  teach  them  something, 
but  conscious  educative  methods  give  more  hope.  Why  should 
men  be  left  altogether  to  the  bitter  and  costly  process  of  ex- 
perience to  learn  over  in  each  generation  the  lessons  which 
history  has  already  in  store  for  those  who  can  and  will  read 
and  weigh? 


The  State  and  the  Government  313 


Nor  can  it  be  said  that  the  disinclination  to  elect  the  best 
men  is  confined  to  the  "poor  wards"  of  cities,  for  this  also 
would  be  a  piece  of  pharisaism  and  self-righteousness  which 
blinds  eves  like  a  bribe.  Wealthy  men  are  often  the  worst 
sinners;  and  it  is  at  least  commonly  believed  that  great  cor- 
porations and  real-estate  speculators  have  systematically  cor- 
rupted caucuses  and  electors,  as  well  as  legislators  and  aldermen 
of  cities,  in  order  to  secure  valuable  franchises  and  other  privi- 
leges at  low  cost  to  themselves.  In  individual  cases  such 
charges  are  always  hard  to  prove,  but  it  is  impossible  that 
common  rumor  and  multiplied  circumstantial  evidence  should 
be  altogether  at  fault.  Our  education,  therefore,  must  not 
merely  be  directed  to  the  slums,  but  to  the  homes  and  offices 
of  powerful  magnates  in  business  life,  some  of  whom  are 
honored  in  polite  society,  flattered  and  worshipped  by  those 
who  seek  their  favors,  and  are  even  praised  and  exalted  in 
churches.  It  is  so  easy  for  us  to  think  of  looking  down  into 
cottages  and  tenement  houses  when  we  go  hunting  for  the 
causes  of  social  evils,  and  we  often  miss  finding  the  largest 
game  of  all  because  we  do  not  go  where  silks  rustle  and  music 
charms  the  ear.  This  is  not  intended  to  attract  more  popular 
lightning  against  the  rich,  but  rather  to  remove  excuses  and 
show  the  solidarity  of  interest  and  of  guilt  in  all  society. 

This  practical  education  should  begin  in  the  public  schools. 
In  the  chapter  on  the  School  some  suggestions  are  made  on 
this  point. 

The  Function  of  the  Voluntary  Association  in  Political  Re- 
form. —  It  is  often  asserted  that  associations  of  private  citizens 
are  impertinent,  and  that  legal  and  political  matters  are  the 
business  of  elected  and  appointed  officials.  It  is  said  that  the 
people  choose  those  whom  they  wish  to  represent  them,  and 
that  no  body  of  ordinary  citizens  has  any  right  to  interfere, 
nor  to  assume  any  of  the  functions  of  government.  At  this 
point  it  is  highly  desirable  that  citizens  should  gain  clear  and 
definite  conceptions  of  the  proper  functions  and  limits  of  the 
voluntary  society  in  relation  to  the  constituted  authorities. 

It  should  be  strongly  asserted  that  the  officers  of  law  should 
enforce  the  law,  according  to  their  oath  of  office.  Prosecutors 
should  prosecute;  mayors  should  see  that  the  ordinances  are 


314  Social  Elements 


kept  alive;  policemen  should  be  compelled  by  their  superiors 
to  do  their  duty  without  fear  or  favor. 

But  suppose  there  is  failure  and  neglect?  Is  the  private 
citizen  to  sit  down  and  fold  his  hands  and  murmur  in  secret 
or  wait  for  something  to  happen?  Rather  should  he  not 
move  upon  the  sworn  officers  of  law  by  direct  appeal,  by  trial 
suits,  by  legal  complaints,  by  reporting  neglect,  by  public 
notice,  by  every  means  of  reaching  the  sensitive  spot  in  every 
official,  until  the  wrong  is  righted  and  the  neglect  repaired? 
This  is  not  only  to  prosper,  but  it  is  the  duty  of  every  citizen. 
But  if  this  is  the  duty  of  each  citizen,  then  he  may  perform 
his  duty  in  the  most  effective  way,  that  is  by  association  with 
others  of  like  mind.  The  voluntary  association  has  been 
recognized  and  legalized  from  the  beginning  of  our  republic. 
It  has  the  support  of  law,  of  custom,  and  of  enlightened  ex- 
perience. A  united  band  of  good  citizens  can  secure  informa- 
tion where  a  single  citizen  would  fail;  can  correct  the  errors 
of  the  isolated  thinker  and  agitator;  can  promote  more  de- 
liberate, and  therefore  more  prudent,  measures;  can  secure 
attention  of  the  public;  can  guarantee  that  the  movement  is 
unselfish  and  directed  by  competent  and  responsible  citizens; 
can  provide  adequate  funds  for  necessary  expenses;  can  per- 
sist where  the  individual  alone  would  grow  weary  and  exhausted. 
All  the  reasons  which  demand  that  each  citizen  should  watch 
his  government  apply  with  more  than  double  force  to  the  volun- 
tary association.  This  cry  against  the  "reformers"  is  often 
raised  by  men  who  are  themselves  working  by  secret  combi- 
nations to  corrupt  the  public  officers  and  throw  dust  in  the 
eyes  of  the  public.  Such  men,  especially  if  they  have  long 
enjoyed  a  wicked  monopoly  of  political  control,  are  likely  to 
imagine  that  they  own  the  entire  political  machinery  and 
administrative  system.  There  is  absolute  need  of  voluntary 
action,  persistent  and  united.  The  spoils  system  would  have 
gone  on  corrupting  and  debasing  our  country  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  union  of  such  men  as  Mr.  George  William  Curtis  and 
Mr.  Carl  Schurz  in  the  Civil  Service  Reform  League,  who  are 
honored  for  the  enemies  they  have  made.  Primary  election 
laws  were  formulated  and  pushed  through  legislatures  by  such 
voluntary  associations.     There  is  hardly  an  important  move- 


The  State  and  tJic  Government  315 

ment  for  betterment  which  has  not  been  started,  fostered,  and 
watched  over  by  this  form  of  social  machinery  all  through  the 
history  of  our  nation. 

/'.  Positive  Programme  of  Betterment. — All  the  reforms  of 
machinery  just  mentioned  are  simply  preparatory  to  making 
the  governments  directly  and  positively  helpful  to  the  people 
who  support  them,  whether  they  be  national,  state,  or  muni- 
cipal governments.  We  desire  honest  and  capable  officials, 
in  order  that  the  true  work  of  political  and  administrative 
management  of  affairs  may  advance  the  security,  order,  health, 
intelligence,  morality,  and  happiness  of  all  members  of  the 
various  communities.  The  engineer  does  not  oil  and  polish 
his  locomotive  merely  to  have  its  photograph  taken.  Of 
national  government  we  desire  an  efficient  agency  of  protec- 
tion against  foreign  aggression  and  insult,  regulation  of  inter- 
state commerce,  defence  against  gigantic  aggregate  greed  and 
internal  conflict,  watchful  attention  to  the  conditions  of  manu- 
facture and  trade  in  other  countries,  fostering  care  of  ocean 
and  inland  commerce  and  navigation. 

Of  our  commonwealth  governments  we  demand  the  most 
efficient  civil  and  criminal  codes,  the  most  perfect  methods 
of  administration,  the  care  of  state  charges  among  the  desti- 
tute and  feeble,  the  supervision  and  upbuilding  of  our  great 
public-school  system,  "from  gutter  to  university,"  the  regula- 
tion of  local  affairs  by  efficient  administrative  boards. 

Of  our  municipal  governments  we  ask  more  services,  because 
they  are  nearest  to  us  and  deal  with  a  multitude  of  daily  wants 
and  needs.  First  of  all  we  demand  the  preservation  of  order 
and  protection  of  persons  and  property  by  a  carefully  se- 
lected and  thoroughly  disciplined  police  force.  We  ask  that 
city  governments  should  take  care  that  every  rented  house  is  in 
good  sanitary  condition,  and  that  the  poor  are  not  left  to  the 
mercy  of  landlords  in  such  vital  matters  as  plumbing,  drainage, 
ventilation,  and  light.  Cities  should  provide  agencies  for 
compulsory  vaccination,  that  we  may  not  be  exposed  to 
periodical  invasion  of  small-pox,  as  our  fathers  were.  Foods 
should  be  inspected,  adulterated  and  poisonous  meats,  vege- 
tables, and  bread  condemned,  and  the  sellers  punished. 
Parks,  playgrounds,  and  places  of  recreation  should  be  pro- 


316  Social  Elements 


v 


vided,  that  all  men  may  have  a  chance  to  build  up  healthy 
bodies.  Cities  should  maintain  schools  for  every  child,  and 
see  to  it  that  all  the  young  are  sent  to  school,  that  they  may 
not  grow  up  enemies  of  the  republic.  Schools  for  manual 
training,  science,  art,  music,  should  meet  the  varied  wants  of 
men;  while  museums  and  libraries  should  serve  the  most  ad- 
vanced taste  of  cultivated  cities  and  lure  the  dullest  to  finer 
things. 

The  streets  should  be  clean  in  all  quarters,  and  not  merely 
in  boulevard  districts  and  along  the  avenues.  Transportation 
should  be  so  directed  that  it  will  be  as  convenient  and  cheap 
as  possible,  and  should  not  return  extravagant  income  to  pro- 
moters. Pure  water  should  be  furnished  at  minimum  cost  and 
for  all  inhabitants. 

The  defective,  the  blind,  the  deaf,  the  slow-minded,  the 
criminal,  and  the  exposed  waif  should  not  be  forgotten  by 
our  paternal  and  fraternal  city  governments.  We  are  not 
afraid  to  use  the  word  "paternal,"  for  it  is  a  good  word, — 
almost  as  good  as  "maternal,"  —  and  entirely  suitable  to 
express  that  friendly  and  helpful  relation  of  the  government 
to  all  its  children  which  tends  to  excite  in  them  patriotic 
devotion  and  boundless  affection.  American  "paternalism  " 
is  merely  fraternal  cooperation. 

It  is  true  that  governments  are  not  yet  fitted  to  perform 
all  public  services,  and  that  we  must  beware  of  adding  public 
functions  until  the  corporation  of  cities  breaks  down  under  the 
weight  of  taxation  and  difficult  administrative  tasks.  There 
is  a  natural  limit  to  the  power  even  of  these  mightiest  agencies 
of  society,  the  limits  of  wealth,  of  productive  force,  and  of 
directing  ability.  Many  functions  can  always  be  best  per- 
formed by  private  parties  or  firms.  Each  case  must  be  decided 
on  its  merits,  for  the  particular  locality;  but  no  community 
should  be  frightened  from  securing  for  itself  the  appliances 
or  a  higher  civilization  by  the  spectre  of  some  theory  of 
"individualism"  or  by  the  taunting  epithet  of  "socialism." 
Arguments  for  progress  are  not  answered  by  flinging  out  a  hard 
name  that  happens  to  be  unpopular  with  many.  In  fact,  the 
word  "socialism"  is  coming  to  be  rather  popular  than  the 
contrary  with  multitudes  of  workingmen  and  educated  persons 


The  State  and  the  Government  317 


in  every  modern  land.  We  have  no  right  or  reason  to  pre- 
judge a  measure  merely  because  some  heretic  has  been  its 
advocate. 

Rational  Patriotism.  —  Let  it  be  engraved  in  the  memory  of 
every  young  citizen  that  the  government  is  simply,  at  a  given 
time,  the  embodiment  of  our  morality,  our  intelligence,  our 
will,  our  character,  and  that  it  is  not  an  automatic  machine, 
run  by  perpetual  motion,  without  need  of  our  cooperation  and 
sacrifice.  It  is  pitiful  and  discouraging  that  a  well-informed 
man  should  feel  obliged  to  write:  "Great  communities  of 
wealthy  people,  removing  their  homes  from  the  bustle  and  din 
of  the  working  world,  build  up  stately  rows  of  palaces,  or  fill 
great  parks  with  their  splendid  villas.  There  is  a  single  town 
in  Massachusetts  rich  enough  in  men  of  education  and  re- 
sources to  lead  a  score  of  colonies  such  as  established  the 
Commonwealth  in  the  beginning.  The  fathers  or  grandfathers 
of  these  men  were  .natural  leaders,  cheerfully  carrying  civil 
responsibilities  in  a  hundred  New  England  towns.  But  this 
well-to-do  class  to-day,  so  largely  endowed  with  all  the  capaci- 
ties to  make  responsible  leaders  for  the  city,  the  state,  the 
nation,  are  merely  private  citizens,  often  too  careless  of  their 
civil  duties  to  take  the  trouble  to  vote.  Youths  grow  up  in 
the  wealthy  homes  of  Beacon  Street  and  Fifth  Avenue  on  whom 
no  serious  burdens  rest,  who  believe  that  their  chief  function 
in  life  is  to  be  ornamental,  to  travel  abroad,  to  sail  yachts,  to 
discover  pleasure.  There  was  a  Greek  word  idiotes,  which 
meant  one  that  counted  for  nothing  in  the  state.  Our  word 
'idiot'  comes  from  the  old  root."1  It  is  the  duty  of  all 
teachers  and  students  to  "count  for  something  in  the  state." 

1  The  Combig  People  (p.  114),  by  C.  F.  Dole. 


PART    IV 

SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY,   ORDER,   AND  PROGRESS 


-»<>♦- 


CHAPTER   XV 
Some  Problems  of  Social  Psychology 

"  I  love  to  believe  that  no  heroic  sacrifice  is  ever  lost;  that  the  charac- 
ters of  men  are  moulded  and  inspired  by  what  their  fathers  have  done; 
that,  treasured  up  in  American  souls  are  all  the  unconscious  influences 
of  the  great  deeds  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  from  Agincourt  to  Bunker 
Hill."  —  President  Garfield. 

Let  us  recall  what  occurs  when  a  cry  of  alarm  startles  a 
village  at  the  discovery  of  a  fire.  The  excited  shout  rings 
through  the  short  street;  there  is  a  quick  response  of  thought 
as  the  terrible  meaning  of  the  signal  is  understood  by  many 
householders  in  a  few  moments;  there  is  interest,  fright,  eager 
curiosity,  pity,  sympathy  —  a  flood  of  emotions;  and  almost 
at  the  same  moment  come  resolves  and  action.  Men  hurry 
to  the  place  with  pails  of  water  and  are  ready  to  cooperate  to 
assist  extinguish  the  flames  and  aid  the  refugees  move  their 
furniture  to  a  comfortable  shelter.  Or  we  may  reflect  on  the 
order  of  events  when  it  is  announced  in  a  rural  neighbor- 
hood that  a  horse  has  been  stolen.  The  news  travels  along 
the  highway,  that  a  lock  has  been  broken  and  a  valuable  ani- 
mal has  been  taken  away.  There  is  an  assembly  of  citizens,  a 
hot  discussion,  gestures,  and  speeches  indicating  anger  and 
resentment,  a  hurried  conference  as  to  ways  and  means,  an 
agreement  as  to  action,  followed  by  the  forming  of  parties  sent 
in  pursuit  of  the  criminal.  The  event  leads  to  the  discussion 
of  new  legislation  relating  to  rural  police  and  regular  detective 

3i3 


So//?;-  Problems  of  Social  Psychology  319 

force,  and  to  state  intervention  when  local  authorities  are 
terrorized  by  a  band  of  ruffians.  Thus  the  local  interest 
becomes  a  topic  for  the  people  of  an  entire  state  and  of 
adjoining  states,  for  no  one  knows  when  his  turn  will  come 
to  be  robbed. 

Select  an  event  which  has  a  wider  and  more  permanent  in- 
terest—  the  meeting  of  a  state  teachers'  association,  now  so 
well  known  in  this  country  about  Christmas  week.  Various 
topics  are  brought  forward  and  discussed,  in  committees  and 
in  general  assemblies.  Interest  is  aroused;  a  common  agree- 
ment is  finally  reached  among  those  best  informed;  memorials 
are  presented  to  the  legislature;  new  laws  are  debated  and 
passed;  new  officers  are  appointed  or  the  administrative 
machinery  is  modified  in  some  other  way. 

Widen  the  scope  of  thought  and  recall  what  happens  when 
some  great  and  honored  man  is  killed.  Remember  the  rush 
of  thought,  the  torrents  and  floods  of  emotion  which  followed 
the  death  of  Lincoln  and  of  Garfield.  In  less  sensational 
ways,  and  still  with  deep  and  prolonged  effects,  the  entire 
people  of  the  nation  and  many  of  foreign  nations,  follow  the 
discussion  of  a  monetary  conference  or  the  introduction  of 
a  financial  bill  in  Congress. 

The  news  from  Cuba  and  China  awakens  thought  and  feeling 
in  respect  to  Spain,  Germany,  and  Great  Britain.  There  are 
debates  in  literary  societies,  speeches  in  conventions,  resolu- 
tions of  representative  bodies,  perhaps  some  further  action  of 
committees  or  diplomatic  agents  of  government.  That  won- 
derful arrangement  of  social  forces  called  the  Associated  Press, 
praised  and  blamed  in  the  same  breath,  serves  up  news  for  the 
breakfast  table  with  our  hot  coffee.  It  makes  it  possible  for 
persons  in  Liverpool  and  San  Francisco  to  be  considering 
the  same  facts  at  the  same  hour. 

Thus,  by  illustrations  drawn  from  life  we  begin  to  under- 
stand how  the  members  of  society  actually  have  the  same 
knowledge,  share  the  same  feelings,  resolve  upon  the  same 
line  of  conduct  at  the  same  time.  It  is  this  aspect  of  society 
in  its  interior  essence  to  which  this  chapter  is  devoted. 

We  have  been  studying  particular  forms  or  institutions,  the 
more  external  aspects  of  various  associations  and  societies; 


320  Social  Elements 


and  now  we  seek  the  very  soul  of  the  totality,  of  society  itself, 
without  regarding  the  special  modes  of  manifestation.  This 
more  abstract  and  difficult  task  has  been  reserved  until  the 
reader  has  become  accustomed  to  observe  in  visible,  tangible, 
and  familiar  modes  of  expression  the  working  of  the  invisible 
forces. 

/.  Problems  of  this  Chapter  on  Social  Mental  Life.  —  We 
are  seeking  to  state  to  ourselves  the  essential  spiritual  ele- 
ments of  energy  which  have  created  and  which  perpetually 
sustain  the  social  institutions  which  have  hitherto  engaged 
our  attention.  Each  institution  has  some  peculiar  end  or 
purpose,  some  special  combination  of  mental  forces  which 
called  it  into  being.  Now  we  wish  to  survey  the  entire  field 
and  see  what  features  are  common  to  all.  We  are  ready  to 
inquire  whether  there  is  any  reality  corresponding  to  such 
phrases  as  "the  social  consciousness."  What  are  the  con 
tents  of  the  social  mind?  How  are  spiritual  possessions  so- 
cialized? What  is  the  causal  connection  between  these 
inner  experiences  and  their  external  manifestation  in  insti- 
tutions? Is  there  a  common  human  nature  in  which  this 
unity  exists,  a  universal  reason  and  character  to  which  all 
human  beings  are  essentially  related?  What  is  the  best  ex- 
planation of  such  phenomena  as  social  influence,  imitation, 
mobs,  regular  social  agreements,  and  other  modes  of  coop- 
eration? Are  there  spiritual  peculiarities  which  characterize 
entire  nations  and  races?  Such  are  some  of  the  topics  which 
are  discussed  in  a  "social  psychology." 

II.  Conditions  of  Community  of  Ideas,  Emotions,  and  Pur- 
poses. —  Occupation  of  the  same  region  favors  the  beginning 
of  association.  Coexistence  within  the  same  territory  is  the 
primary  condition  of  fellowship.  Persons  separated  from 
each  other  by  impassable  barriers,  living  in  different  planets, 
or  divided  by  mountains  or  oceans  which  they  have  not  wit 
to  cross,  are  incapable  of  association.  Living  together  is  not 
so  necessary  after  means  of  communication  are  extended. 
There  are  firms  of  bankers,  publishers,  and  merchants  whose 
members  have  offices  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic;  and  this 
is  made  possible  by  the  telegraphic  cables  and  steamships. 
If  there  were  people  like  us  in  the  moon,  and  if   there  were 


Some  Problems  of  Social  Psychology  321 

a  system  of  signals  between  us,   a  society  of  corresponding 
astronomers  might  soon  spring  up. 

Common  descent  and  crossing  have  been  physical  means 
of  connecting  peoples.  It  is  still  an  open  question  in  biology 
and  ethnology  whether  the  human  race  has  descended  from 
one  centre  or  from  several  centres.  The  origins  of  the  race 
are  hidden  from  the  methods  of  science  in  impenetrable  mists, 
perhaps  never  to  be  lifted.  But  there  is  no  doubt  that  common 
descent  has  been  a  very  large  and  important  factor  in  creating 
a  common  basis  for  thought  and  sympathy.  A  common  phys- 
ical descent,  while  favorable  to  the  realization  of  common 
nature  and  to  association,  could  not  account  for  the  unity  and 
likeness  of  the  soul's  life  in  men.  That  is  not  a  physical  fact, 
nor  does  it  spring  from  physical  elements. 

Association  requires  physical  means  of  communication  of 
thoughts.  Living  upon  the  same  territory,  even  if  the  persons 
are  descended  from  the  same  ancestors,  does  not  insure  asso- 
ciation. There  must  be  a  possibility  of  actual  exchange  of 
ideas.  And  there  must  be  an  actual  system  of  active  com- 
munication provided  by  human  art,  with  outward  symbols 
which  bear  the  same  meaning  for  all.  The  existence  of  such 
a  system  of  symbols,  even  in  a  family  or  horde,  already  implies 
at  least  the  beginnings  of  association.  Here  appear  the  sig- 
nificance and  the  value  of  language,  means  of  transportation, 
communication,  newspapers,  libraries,  and  all  the  lines  on 
which  thoughts  may  radiate  from  the  centre  of  their  birth  to 
the  outermost  members  of  the  groups. 

III.  The  Essential  Psychical  Forces  of  Social  Organization. 
—  What  is  the  real  nature  of  the  influences  which  bring  human 
beings  to  combine  in  family,  industry,  state,  church,  and  in 
other  social  institutions? 

Men  acting  as  human,  rational,  and  free  beings,  act  with  a 
purpose.  Their  object,  in  general  terms,  is  something  they 
value  or  prefer.  The  particular  objects  of  desire  become  more 
and  more  numerous  and  varied  with  the  development  of  human 
faculty  by  culture. 

Classification  of  the  Objects  of  Hitman  Desire  and  Prefer- 
ence.—  There  are  two  grand  divisions  of  these  objects  corre- 
sponding to  the  dual  nature  of  man  —  those  which  appeal  to 

Y 


322  Social  Elements 


his  physical  nature,  and  those  which  appeal  to  his  psychical 
nature.  But  it  is  impossible  to  separate  one  from  the  other 
in  any  absolute  way. 

The  works  on  physiology  and  psychology  treat  fully  the 
objects  which  excite  and  gratify  the  bodily  appetites  of  hun- 
ger, thirst,  sex,  and  the  feelings  of  filial  and  parental  emotion 
which  men  share  with  animals  of  the  higher  orders.  The 
desires  are  directed  toward  certain  specific  things  or  persons. 

There  are  other  objects  which  excite  and  gratify  our  more 
distinctly  human  interests:  beautiful  works  of  art;  external 
phenomena  and  forms  of  knowledge;  social  meetings  for  fel- 
lowship; worship;  persons  in  suffering  who  appeal  to  pity. 

Why  do  men  value  these  objects?  What  is  it  in  men  that 
causes  them  to  move  toward  the  attainment  of  the  means  of 
satisfying  physical  appetites  or  the  higher  wants  of  the  aes- 
thetic, religious,  and  intellectual  nature? 

Many  writers  are  extremely  confident  in  instantly  replying : 
men  seek  such  objects  for  pleasing  sensations,  for  happiness. 

It  is  affirmed  that  we  desire  nothing  else  but  to  enjoy  pleas- 
ure and  to  avoid  pain;  that  we  have  this  purpose  in  mind 
when  we  take  measures  to  gt'.i.t.ij&qession  of  viands,  houses, 
wines,  clothes,  books,  pictiu  <tji©iies. 

But  many  others,  including^  ji&ilst  some  of  the  profoundest 
thinkers  of  the  race,  repudiate  this  statement.  They  point  to 
the  martyrs  and  patriots  who  have  preferred  pain  to  comfort 
and  luxury;  to  scholars  who  choose  to  live  on  crusts  that  they 
might  proceed  with  their  absorbing  investigations;  to  hosts  of 
self-forgetting  mothers  who  devote  themselves  to  their  chil- 
dren, not  counting  the  pain  nor  reckoning  on  agreeable  sen- 
sations. 

If  it  be  said  by  the  defenders  of  the  pleasure  theory  that 
these  persons  also  are  seeking  pleasures,  only  those  of  a  higher 
kind,  more  intense  and  prolonged,  perhaps  eternal,  this  is 
denied  on  two  grounds:  first,  that  it  is  contrary  to  the  very 
essence  of  self-devotion,  and  also  that  it  is  contrary  to  the 
memory  of  experience.  When  a  scholar  is  intent  on  a  chemi- 
cal analysis,  or  pursuing  an  insect,  or  dissecting  a  brain,  or 
digging  up  a  Hebrew  root,  he  is  not  thinking  of  pleasure,  but 
of  chemicals,  roots,  insects.     His  object  is  a  discovery,  and 


Sonic  Problems  of  Social  Psychology  323 

nothing  else.  Pain  and  pleasure  are  indifferent  to  him.  He 
is  absorbed.  If  he  should  stop  to  think  of  pleasure,  his  insect 
would  get  away  from  him,  and  happiness  itself  would  lly. 

"  Pleasures  arc  like-  puppies  spread; 
\'<>u  seize  the  flower,  the  bloom  is  shed; 
Or,  like  the  snow-fall  in  the  river, 
A  moment  white,  then  melts  forever. 
Or,  like  the  borealis  race, 
That  Hit  ere  you  can  point  their  place; 
Or,  like  the  rainbow's  lovely  form, 
Evanishing  amid  the  storm." 

We  do  not  prefer  an  object  because  it  gives  us  pleasure,  but 
we  have  pleasure  in  it  because  we  prefer  it.  Only  objects 
which  we  value  can  give  us  enjoyment. 

Has  pleasure  no  part  in  the  motives  of  men?  Is  the  dread 
of  pain  no  factor  in  social  forces?  This  cannot  be  affirmed. 
Sensations  and  feelings  of  varying  degrees  accompany  all  acts 
of  body  and  mind,  and  we  do  remember  what  has  given  satis- 
faction and  tends  toward  it;  we  do  remember  the  sensations 
of  discomfort  or  pain  which  attend  a  certain  act,  and  we 
naturally  shrinlr  fr^  i  of  it. 

Among  the  1^...  .en  for  avoiding  war  with  a 

foreign  nation  would  be.  .  >  --would  certainly  cause  much 
positive  suffering  and  deprivation  of  happiness.  No  one 
would  think  of  disputing  that  fact.  But  multitudes  of  brave 
and  patriotic  persons  would  say  that  there  were  other  consid- 
erations, and  that  such  words  as  justice,  honor,  humanity, 
civilization  are  not  empty  words,  nor  goods  that  could  by  any 
logical  trick  be  analyzed  into  agreeable  sensations. 

Contrast  these  psychical  or  "  moral "  forces  with  merely 
physical  causes.  The  explosion  of  a  keg.  of  gunpowder  is  an 
example  of  a  happening  caused  by  a  purely  physical  cause,  the 
union  of  fire  with  a  certain  chemical  compound  which  easily 
ignites  and  produces  a  rapid  expansion  of  gas  in  the  process 
of  combustion.  Here  the  cause  is  a  physical  contact  of  parti- 
cles of  matter  of  a  certain  constitution.  There  is  no  thought, 
reflection,  or  choice  in  the  process. 

The  meeting  of  a  city  council  is  an  example  of  the  acting  of 
psychical  forces.     The  members  of  the  town  legislature  have 


324  Social  Elements 


information  of  the  purpose  of  the  meeting;  they  come  together 
from  choice  and  with  varying  purposes;  and  their  deed  is  the 
result  of  deliberation,  of  desire  to  accomplish  certain  things 
and  with  ultimate  prospect,  perhaps,  of  enjoyments  to  be 
secured. 

In  the  case  of  a  social  force  there  is  a  thought  of  end  and 
of  means,  a  deliberation  more  or  less  prolonged,  and  a  deter- 
mination to  select  one  among  several  possible  courses.  The 
object  desired  is  pictured  to  the  imagination;  it  is  held  up 
before  the  mind  of  several  persons  as  desirable;  and  the  con- 
sequent conduct  is  chosen  by  all  participants  after  weighing 
many  conflicting  considerations. 

Social  causes,  in  the  strict  sense,  are  thus  to  be  carefully 
distinguished  from  physical  causes.  Natural  and  social  sci- 
ence deal  with  different  modes  of  force.  It  is  possible  that 
they  may  be  shown  at  last  to  be  one  force,  but  at  present  we 
must  treat  them  as  of  entirely  different  essence  because  they 
manifest  themselves  in  such  different  ways.  It  produces  con- 
fusion tc  treat  them  as  identical.  If  a  man  is  shot  out  of  a 
cannon  across  a  bay,  that  is  physical  causation;  if,  at  com- 
mand of  the  general,  he  takes  his  life  in  his  hand  and  swims 
across  in  face  of  the  enemy,  for  duty  or  glory,  that  is  psychical 
causation  and  comes  from  spiritual  motives. 

Social  Results  of  Acting  on  the  Desires.  —  Each  special  kind 
of  desire  has  a  different  effect,  although  there  are  combina- 
tions of  desires  and  corresponding  complexity  of  results. 

We  may  begin  with  the  lower  appetites  shared  with  animals, 
the  two  appetites  of  hunger  and  sex.  The  one  desire  leads  to 
securing  food  which  is  essential  to  maintaining  the  life  of  the 
individual.  Nutrition  makes  propagation  possible,  and  the 
appetite  of  sex  issues  in  offspring,  which  continue  the  exist- 
ence of  the  race.  These  two  results  are  the  vital  necessities. 
Without  individual  preservation  there  is  no  propagation;  with 
out  propagation  the  race  perishes.  These  cravings  are  the 
lowest,  but  they  are  the  foundation  of  all  higher  possibilities. 
Now  that  they  have  come  under  the  control  of  reason,  have 
been  associated  with  art,  religion,  poetry,  reflective  patriotism, 
and  all  the  purely  spiritual  qualities  of  humanity,  they  are  no 
more  merely  animal. 


Some  Problems  of  Social  Psychology  325 

The  psychical  desires,  aesthetic,  religious,  intellectual,  and 
sociable,  result  in  the  arts,  worship,  associations,  literature, 
and  all  the  strictly  human  and  spiritual  activities  of  man- 
kind. 

Are  these  results  of  satisfying  desires  intended  by  men? 
Are  they  a  part  of  the  plan  of  individuals  and  of  societies? 
Certainly  there  is  little  evidence  that  animals  have  any  such 
foresight  and  purpose,  although  the  habit  of  nest-making 
before  the  young  are  born  seems  to  reveal  a  half-conscious 
presentiment  of  the  race  meaning  of  sexual  union  among  the 
feathered  tribes.  The  lower  races  of  men  are  chiefly  moved 
by  immediate  appetite,  without  much  control  of  higher  inter- 
ests and  without  great  powers  of  foresight  and  deliberate  con- 
siderations of  consequences.  But  as  human  beings  gain  larger 
views,  as  civilization  advances,  and  reflective  faculties  are  cul- 
tivated, every  instinct,  passion,  desire,  and  interest  is  viewed 
in  the  light  of  all  consequences  to  the  individual,  the  family, 
and  the  larger  self  of  society.  Even  marriage  has  been  en- 
tered among  peoples  given  to  ancestor  worship,  under  the 
distinct  law  that  every  man  ought  to  provide  a  legal  heir  to 
perpetuate  the  domestic  worship.  Marriages  of  noblemen, 
princes,  and  rich  men  have  certainly  been  influenced  by  a  pur- 
pose which  included  these  considerations.  Leaders  of  French 
society,  frightened  at  the  decrease  of  population  caused  by 
selfish  love  of  ease,  entreat  the  people  to  give  to  their  country 
larger  families  as  a  patriotic  duty;  while  economists  urge  the 
people  in  too  densely  populated  districts  to  limit  their  num- 
bers so  that  distressing  poverty  may  not  oppress  them. 

In  the  case  of  the  higher  and  more  spiritual  pursuits  the  re- 
sults are  surely  part  of  the  purpose.  The  young  man  goes  to 
college  or  takes  costly  journeys  in  lands  of  ancient  art,  just 
because  he  has  in  mind  some  conception  of  "culture"  as  a 
desirable  and  honorable  state  to  attain.  The  formation  of  a 
character  with  the  traits  of  justice,  benevolence,  veracity,  and 
courage  is  distinctly  set  before  millions  of  fine  natures  as  an 
object  of  a  definite  value  and  a  result  which  is  consciously 
sought  for  its  own  sake.  The  continuance  of  life,  the  advan- 
tage of  the  human  race  are,  therefore,  not  only  the  results,  but 
actually  part  of  the  plans  of  civilized  and  socialized  men  and 


326  Social  Elements 


women.  This  conscious  purpose  may  grow  more  definite,  in- 
telligent, and  powerful  until  it  becomes  dominant  in  society. 

The  question  whether  there  is  any  such  intention  or  design 
in  nature  is  one  which  does  not  belong  directly  to  social  psy- 
chology to  answer,  but  rather  to  philosophy  or  metaphysics. 
Strictly  speaking,  nature  itself,  as  a  system  of  unconscious 
forces  and  matter,  designs  nothing.  Only  a  moral  person- 
ality, a  conscious  intelligence,  can  entertain  a  purpose. 
Nature  is  the  material  with  which  intelligence  may  work  its 
designs,  but  nothing  of  intention  originates  in  nature. 

Nature  may  reveal  design,  not  its  own,  but  that  of  the  Intel- 
ligence and  Will,  of  which  nature  is  the  creature  and  the  ser- 
vant. This  seems  to  be  the  truth.  Our  own  experience  in 
working  as  souls  pervading  bodies  and  acting  with  design  upon 
the  matter  and  forces  of  nature,  helps  us  to  understand  that  a 
superior  and  creative  Intelligence  may  work  in  a  similar  way 
to  its  ends.  This  inquiry  belongs  to  theology  and  philosophy. 
We  must  admit  that  our  comprehension  of  the  divine  inten- 
tions disclosed  in  nature  and  in  history  is  very  narrow  and 
imperfect,  and  in  particular  instances  we  must  think  of  our 
interpretations  of  that  design  with  modesty  and  humility. 

What  is  fat  function  ofi7itelligence  in  relation  to  social  forces? 
The  process  and  the  product  of  our  knowing  powers  are  de- 
sired. We  wish  not  only  to  know  facts,  truth,  laws,  but  we 
find  delight  even  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge.  When  discov- 
ery follows  discovery,  when  the  meaning  of  some  natural 
phenomenon  or  of  some  deep  author  flashes  on  our  minds,  we 
rejoice  with  a  pure  and  noble  joy.  Study  becomes  with  many 
people  a  necessity  of  daily  life.  When  a  new  law  is  found 
the  birds  sing  in  the  heart.  The  desire  for  knowledge,  whether 
seen  in  the  infant  school  or  in  the  university  laboratory, 
becomes  a  social  force. 

The  intelligence  comprehends  ends  of  life  and  apprehends 
the  means  of  their  attainment.  It  passes  judgment  on  the 
pursuits  of  men  and  also  finds  a  way  to  reach  the  objects 
desired. 

Intelligence  comprehending  the  ends  of  existence  is  wisdom. 
Intelligence  apprehending  the  means  of  realizing  the  purpose 
of  the  soul  is  science  and  art. 


Some  Problems  of  Social  Psychology  327 

The  will,  in  all  its  stages  of  development,  from  spontaneous 
and  reflex  motions  up  to  the  most  deliberate  covenants  of 
national  ambassadors  of  states,  is  the  immediate  social  force. 
It  is  in  acts  of  will  that  human  spirits  touch  the  border  line 
between  the  inner  and  the  outer  world.  In  the  choice  of  ends 
and  means  the  soul  of  man  puts  forth  its  last  effort,  and  sub- 
mits its  selection  to  the  unthinking  forces  of  nature. 

Thus  far  we  have  dealt  with  no  element  which  is  not  known 
in  the  individual  consciousness  and  known  to  be  a  part  of 
individual  experience.  But  we  cannot  pause  here  without 
neglecting  most  vital  factors.  We  are  to  see  how  these  ele- 
ments behave  themselves  in  society. 

In  the  chapter  on  the  Social  Person  or  Individual  we  have 
already  given  a  brief  summary  of  the  equipment  for  social  life 
possessed  by  every  human  being.  We  have  analyzed  the  various 
aspects  of  soul  life, —  sensations,  cognitions,  sentiments,  voli- 
tions,—  and  the  deep  fund  of  character  which  results  from 
habitual  conduct.  We  have  seen  the  vast  network  of  influ- 
ences which  bind  each  man  to  the  past  of  the  race  and  to  his 
contemporaries.  Each  person  is  made  by  society,  and  there- 
fore bears  the  social  image.  But  society  is  nothing  more  than 
an  association  of  persons,  and  there  is  nothing  in  society  which 
is  not  in  persons  and  embodied  in  their  institutions.  There- 
fore, if  we  follow  the  order  of  analysis  of  persons,  we  have  the 
characteristics  of  the  social  mind.  Indeed,  we  have  but  to 
interrogate  our  own  mental  experiences  to  know  what  is  pass- 
ing in  the  minds  of  other  persons.  It  is  the  duty  of  the 
psychologist  to  give  a  detailed  description  and  explanation 
of  thought,  feeling,  and  volitions,  as  a  preparation  for  under- 
standing the  organization  of  society. 

Pursuing  this  hint,  we  may  study  the  social  mind  under 
various  aspects,  always  remembering  that  it  is  one  reality  with 
which  we  are  making  so  free  in  our  artificial  divisions, — 
divisions  which  are  necessary  to  secure  a  complete  analysis 
and  discovery  of  social  energies. 

IV.  What  is  the  Real  Nature  and  Essence  of  Association  ? 
—  What  is  a  society?  What  characterizes  a  society  and  dis- 
tinguishes it  from  other  modes  of  aggregation  and  collection? 
Here  are  fundamental  questions.     It  is  important  to  under- 


328  Social  Elements 


stand  them  for  many  reasons,  and  first  of  all  in  order  that  we 
may  know  the  true  limits  of  the  science  of  society.  For  a 
special  science  must  have  some  matter  peculiar  to  itself. 
Chemistry  deals  with  the  combinations  of  atoms  of  matter. 
Physics  deals  with  masses  and  forces  of  matter.  Astronomy 
treats  of  systems  of  bodies  and  their  constitution  and  motions. 
Psychology  deals  with  the  spiritual  elements  of  human  nature 
and  their  laws.  Economics  has  for  its  field  the  phenomena 
of  the  market.  Politics  can  fairly  claim  the  sphere  of  legal 
and  governmental  activities.  Sociology  ought  to  have  a  dis- 
tinct field  in  the  facts  and  laws  of  human  association,  since 
society  is  a  complex  of  relations  in  which  association  is  the 
common  element,  present  everywhere,  and  running  through  all 
forms  of  conduct,  economic,  political,  and  educational. 

Is  there  such  a  reality  as  a  "social  mind"?  Some  affirm 
and  some  deny.  We  may  form  our  judgment  without  much 
disturbance  from  the  controversy.  We  have  seen  already 
many  times  in  this  book  that  various  groups  of  persons  do 
share  the  same  thoughts,  emotions,  sentiments,  and  volitions, 
and  so  are  able  to  act  together.  There  is  nothing  obscure  or 
difficult  to  understand  thus  far.  One  has  only  to  watch  a  game 
of  football,  or  the  motions  of  a  militia  company,  or  the  crew 
of  a  boat,  to  have  evidence  of  something  general  and  social  in 
thinking  and  willing. 

Is  there,  then,  some  common  social  brain,  such  as  each  man 
has,  in  which  these  general  notions  and  decisions  are  formed? 
Certainly  no  such  mass  of  nervous  matter  within  one  case  of 
bone  has  yet  been  discovered  by  anatomists  or  explorers.  To 
all  particular  nervous  systems  and  spinal  cords  society  does 
not  add  others  for  the  collective  use. 

Is  there  any  "social  will,"  outside  of  all  the  members  of 
society,  which  dictates  to  them,  coerces  them,  instructs  them, 
makes  laws  for  them?  No  psychologist  or  phrenologist  has 
ever  yet  discovered  such  a  mythical  creature. 

The  plain,  simple,  every-day  fact  is  easy  of  comprehension : 
society  is  composed  of  social  persons  who  are,  with  some 
differences,  much  alike,  capable  of  communication  and  of 
communion,  and  who  actually  do  share  in  some  degree  the 
same  thoughts,  emotions,  and  choices.     There  is  nothing  at 


UN 

Some  Problems  of  Social  Psychology  329 

all  mysterious  or  remote  about  this  spiritual  community,  and 
any  one  can  give  evidence  of  it  at  any  moment.  That  is  what 
we  may  call  the  "social  mind,"  or  the  "soul  of  society,"  or 
the  "spiritual  life  of  society,"  or  we  may  call  it  by  any  other 
title  which  will  suggest  the  fact. 

But  this  fact  is  so  very  important,  so  rich  in  contents,  so 
practically  interesting,  that  we  should  give  it  more  attention. 
Here  is  a  comparatively  fresh  field  of  investigation,  and  so  it 
offers  the  charm  of  novelty.  Not  that  it  is  absolutely  new, 
but  that  more  particular  attention  is  now  concentrated  on  it 
than  ever  before,  and  with  all  the  recent  improvements  in 
scientific  method  and  instruments  of  research. 

There  may  be  simply  community  of  intelligence,  as  when 
the  same  information  is  published  not  only  through  a  nation 
but  in  all  the  civilized  world.  This  may  exist  without  deep 
personal  interest  or  sympathy.  For  example,  the  Associated 
Press  may  telegraph  any  morning  the  failure  of  some  great 
railroad  or  copper  mining  company  which  has  been  paying 
large  dividends.  This  will  be  read  by  most  readers  of  journals 
with  languid  attention  and  soon  forgotten,  and  also  by  investors 
with  a  keen  anxiety  which  may  lead  to  calling  meetings  of 
bondholders  from  three  continents  to  consider  what  should  be 
done  to  protect  personal  interests. 

Community  of  feeling  goes  deeper.  When  interests  and 
affections  are  touched,  the  common  information  arouses  the 
creative  and  moving  energies  of  great  populations.  Such 
feeling  implies  previous  connections  of  race,  language,  reli- 
gion, and  the  emotional  qualities  which  accompany  such  rela- 
tions. Thus  the  news  of  the  cruel  treatment  of  Armenians  by 
the  Turks  awakened  resentment  among  their  fellow  Christians 
in  Europe  and  America,  and  the  murder  of  missionaries  in 
China,  when  announced  in  these  countries,  awakened  not  only 
wide  interest  but  deep  feeling. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  "conflict"  belongs  to  association. 
But  so  far  as  there  is  conflict  there  is  not  true  association,  but 
isolation  and  separation.  The  declaration  of  war  can  hardly 
be  called  association,  although  it  may  lead  to  some  agreements 
afterwards,  as  the  subjugation  and  enslavement  of  the  Africans 
in  this  country  led  to  association  of  the  alien  peoples  living 


330  Social  Elements 


in  the  same  territory.  Collision  can  occur  only  between  those 
who  have  by  some  means  come  to  interchange  ideas.  We  may 
thus  admit  that  association,  in  a  weak  sense  of  the  word,  is 
evidenced  and  even  promoted  by  antagonisms.  Antagonism 
as  such  is  not  the  phenomenon  we  are  studying,  but  it  may, 
like  the  lightning  flash,  reveal  possibilities  of  likeness  and 
agreement.  Unless  we  abuse  common  language  and  use  words 
in  a  sense  which  is  opposed  to  that  generally  understood,  we 
cannot  call  conflict  association.  Sympathy  is  a  true  sign  of 
real  human  community. 

And  what  is  sympathy?  It  is  a  final  element  of  conscious- 
ness, and  cannot  be  defined  in  any  simpler  terms.  It  is 
ultimate.  He  who  knows  sympathy  in  any  of  its  forms,  as 
affection  for  his  wife  or  child  or  neighbor,  understands  the 
meaning  without  further  attempts  at  definition.  Poetry  may 
set  it  forth  in  images,  music  may  sing  its  praise  and  stir  its 
chords,  but  only  experience  can  interpret  its  essence  to  any 
man.  Happily  the  readers  of  these  lines  will  have  abundant 
memories  from  which  to  explain  what  is  meant.  Sympathy  is 
the  emotional  side  of  the  social  bond.  Where  it  exists,  as  it 
has  ever  existed  since  there  were  mothers  and  fathers,  there 
is  an  association.  It  may  be  small,  narrow,  provincial,  but  it 
is  real;  it  is  a  beginning  for  the  rising  temple  of  humanity. 

When  common  information  thus  arouses  deep  affections  and 
appeals  to  large  interests,  it  tends  to  unite  societies  in  com- 
munity of  action.  In  this  the  fact  of  solidarity  asserts  itself 
in  its  intense  manifestation.  Examples  may  be  found  of  the 
declarations  of  war  by  the  authorities  of  a  people  moved  by  a 
common  impulse  of  revenge  or  justice  or  humanity.  In  the  past, 
war  has  been  the  chief  cause  of  fusing  the  thoughts,  emotions, 
and  decisions  of  great  societies  into  one  mighty  plan  of  action. 

But  there  are  other  examples  of  united  volitions  consequent 
on  deliberation  and  discussion.  National  and  state  legisla- 
tion are  sometimes  evidences  of  the  convictions  and  deter- 
minations of  a  people.  Tariffs  have  been  made  upon  the 
general  demand  after  long  debate.  Schools  have  been  founded 
and  fixed  in  law  by  the  popular  vote.  A  great  church  may  be 
induced  to  raise  millions  of  dollars  for  some  vast  missionary 
or  educational  or  philanthropic  enterprise. 


Some  Problems  of  Social  Psychology  331 

With  the  increase  of  intelligence  and  the  means  of  com- 
munication and  education,  it  is  reasonable  to  expect  that  towns, 
cities,  states,  and  nations  will  more  and  more  bring  industrial 
affairs,  educational  establishments,  and  other  common  inter- 
ests, under  the  control  of  the  organ  of  the  common  will. 
This  is  the  psychological  meaning  of  what  is  vaguely  called 
"Socialism";  the  expectation  that  in  some  way,  by  the  gov- 
ernment or  by  other  modes  of  associated  action,  the  whole 
people  will  come  to  think  and  feel  and  act  in  concert,  and 
not  be  subject  to  the  secret  schemes,  the  tricks,  the  dishonesty 
and  oppression,  and  the  covert  betrayal  of  the  common  interest 
of  a  few  who  are  in  position  of  advantage. 

It  maybe  permitted  to  use  the  phrase  "social  self-conscious- 
ness "  to  designate  the  state  of  social  thinking  when  the  com- 
parison of  views  leads  to  agreement,  when  the  entire  community 
of  persons  acts  as  one  man.  Formerly  this  was  possible  only 
in  a  very  small  population.  The  ancient  city  of  Athens  was 
composed  of  a  few  thousand  citizens,  who  discussed  state  affairs 
in  the  public  town  meeting  and  voted  after  discussion  for  the 
measures  which  were  approved  by  the  majority.  Now  it  is 
possible  for  the  inhabitants  of  a  wide  continent  to  act  in  con- 
cert and  to  be  moved  by  the  sense  of  a  common  obligation  or 
passion  or  ambition.  This  is  the  grandest  known  form  of 
social  soul  life.  It  is  essentially  an  act  or  state  of  faith  in 
persons,  based  on  knowledge  of  their  character,  and  going 
out  into  deeds  on  the  strength  of  this  trust.  It  is  a  mani- 
festation of  prudence,  of  illuminated  self-interest,  when  the 
necessity  for  cooperation  is  discerned.  It  may  be  a  mani- 
festation of  sympathy,  of  devotion  to  an  ideal  relation. 

"  A  social  organism  of  any  sort  whatever,  large  or  small,  is  what  it  is 
because  each  member  proceeds  to  his  own  duty  with  a  trust  that  the  other 
members  will  simultaneously  do  theirs.  Wherever  a  desired  result  is 
achieved  by  the  cooperation  of  many  independent  persons,  its  existence 
as  a  fact  is  a  pure  consequence  of  the  precursive  faith  in  one  another 
of  those  immediately  concerned.  A  government,  an  army,  a  commercial 
system,  a  ship,  a  college,  an  athletic  team,  all  exist  on  this  condition,  with- 
out which  not  only  is  nothing  achieved,  but  nothing  is  even  attempted."  l 

Human  association  is  not  complete  except  so  far  as  there 
is  a  common  determination.     The  will  side  of  every  man  is 
1  James,  The  Will  to  Believe,  p.  24. 


332  Social  Elements 


^ 


present  in  all  the  acts  of  collective  man.  Association  is  an 
act.  It  is  not  something  done  to  man,  but  something  made 
by  men  working  together.  If  ten  thousand  men  of  all  tribes 
and  kindreds  were  forced  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  into  an 
inclosure, —  strangers,  enemies,  saints,  criminals,  aliens  in 
language  and  religion, —  that  would  not  be  an  association. 
By  a  miracle  of  spiritual  union  it  might  become  an  associa- 
tion, but  the  mere  fact  of  being  forced  into  a  pen  would  not 
make  them  one.1 

This  community  of  ideas,  sympathies,  and  choices  which  is 
human  association  has  many  degrees.  Some  races  and  peoples 
are  much  more  closely  and  intimately  bound  together  in 
thought,  understanding,  and  action  than  others.  In  the  most 
intimate  unions  of  persons,  conflicting  and  alienating  factors 
may  exist  and  subtract  so  much  from  the  strength  and  happi- 
ness of  the  relation.  The  geographical  range  of  an  association 
may  be  very  narrow  at  first  and  afterward  be  extended.  In- 
deed, this  is  one  of  the  marks  of  moral  progress,  the  widening 
of  the  realm  of  knowledge  and  sympathy  and  agreement. 

Perhaps  we  require  a  word  of  less  intense  meaning  than 
"association"  to  designate  the  more  general  fact  of  a  social 
organization  which  includes  conflicting  members.  We  must 
admit  that  all  communities  recognize  the  citizenship  and 
membership  even  of  criminals,  the  antisocial  class.  Deeper 
than  any  conventional  contracts,  agreements,  and  covenants 
there  is  a  solidarity  which  resides  in  society  even  when  it  is 
theoretically  and  practically  denied.  The  idiot,  utterly  uncon- 
scious of  human  qualities,  is,  merely  as  human,  protected  by 
the  shield  of  law,  fostered  tenderly  by  ministers  of  the  nursing 
goodness  of  states.  The  Civil  War  was  fought  for  the  prin- 
ciple that  this  nation  is  one  and  that  secession  is  void,  impos- 
sible. Even  when  the  Federal  armies  fronted  the  southern 
hosts  in  dreadful  battle,  it  was  to  assert  the  fact  that  we  are 
one  people,  and  to  realize  that  truth,  even  against  armed 
resistance. 

The  amnesty  which  swiftly  followed  the  laying  down  of  dis- 

1  The  text  discusses  chiefly  rational  and  deliberate  cooperation.  The 
intensifying  efforts  of  a  "  crowd  "  upon  the  impulsive  and  instinctive  emotions 
of  its  members  are  treated  by  Le  Bon,  The  Croiud. 


Some  Problems  of  Social  Psychology  333 

union  arms  was  not  a  different  policy  from  that  embodied  in 
forts  and  monitors;  it  was  simply  the  glad  recognition  that 
the  price  of  blood  and  treasure  had  not  been  expended  in 
vain.  Society  may  exist  when  the  process  of  socialization  is 
imperfect,  when  conflict  lingers.  Society  maintains  its  con- 
trol over  its  criminal  citizens  at  the  very  moment  it  is  seeking 
to  "reform"  them;  that  is,  prepare  them  for  freedom  in  a 
voluntary  and  not  enforced  cooperation. 

In  other  words,  society  is  constantly  socializing  its  members, 
reducing  the  dissensions,  universalizing  its  highest  knowledge 
and  its  best  sympathies.  Society  is  never  altogether  social- 
ized. Its  ideals  are  never  fully  realized.  Its  best  life  is  not 
a  fact,  but  a  becoming,  a  striving, —  but  a  striving  which  is 
creative  of  some  part  of  the  ideal  at  every  moment. 

A  Reconciliation  of  Theories.  —  I  have  spoken  of  the  con- 
troversv  among  social  students  in  relation  to  the  real  charac- 
teristic  of  human  association.  Have  we  succeeded  in  making 
it  clear  that  there  is  a  union  of  elements  in  a  unity?  All  the 
higher  forms  of  unity  are  thus  composed.  A  grain  of  sand 
may  be  a  unit,  but  it  is  not  a  unity.  An  atom  must  seek 
company  before  it  can  combine  into  something  larger  and 
higher. 

Various  definitions  of  the  essential  factor  of  society  have 
been  offered,  and  in  examining  them  in  a  certain  order  we 
may  see  that  each  has  an  element  of  truth,  and  that  all  are 
needed  in  a  complete  analysis. 

Let  us  take  up  those  definitions  which  seem  to  select  the 
cognitive  element  in  association  and  make  that  conspicuous 
if  not  exclusive. 

The  economic  idea  of  community  life  is  that  of  a  perception 
of  common  interests.  Men  work  together  because  they  can 
produce  goods  to  better  advantage.  So  do  ants,  beavers, 
monkeys,  and  herds  of  buffaloes.  The  perception  of  a  com- 
mon interest  is  one  component  element  in  the  cement  of 
society.  But  lime  alone  will  not  make  mortar,  nor  sand  alone; 
both  are  necessary.  The  perception  of  a  common  economic 
interest  is  one  of  the  thought  elements  in  association.  It  is 
only  one,  though  it  is  very  strong.     It  is  a  rational  motive. 

Professor  Giddings  has  emphasized  the  definition  "the  con- 


334 


Social  Elements 


sciousness  of  kind."  In  the  word  "consciousness"  the  cog- 
nitive element  seems  to  be  uppermost.  The  perception  and 
belief  that  we  belong  to  the  same  species  or  stock  and  have 
much  alike  in  our  composition,  from  nature  and  inheritance, 
are  powerful  and  fundamental  elements  in  association.  M. 
Fouillee's  " idee  force  "  seems  to  bring  forward  this  intellectual 
side  of  the  social  bond. 

Next  take  up  the  definition  which  indicates  the  element  of 
emotion  and  sentiment. 

The  characteristic  of  association  has  been  declared  to  be 
"sympathy,"  and  this  enters  into  Professor  Giddings'  later 
definitions  of  the  "consciousness  of  kind,"  in  which  he 
includes  a  "perception  of  resemblance,  sympathy,  and  liking, 
and  a  desire  for  recognition."  Unquestionably  the  sentiments 
and  affections  enter  the  social  bond. 

There  is  an  element  of  will  in  the  principle  of  association. 
There  must  be,  or  nothing  would  be  done.  There  must  be, 
or  association  would  not  be  a  work  of  man.     Man  is  will. 

Here  we  may  place  the  important  contribution  of  M.  Durk- 
heim,  who  insists  that  it  is  the  social  will  which  coerces  men 
to  cooperate.  Certainly  men  do  many  things  together  because 
they  are  required  to  do  it,  perhaps  forced  to  do  it,  by  their 
fellows.  Men  go  to  prison  because  they  feel  the  hand  of  a 
powerful  will  upon  them.  Men  go  into  armies,  being  drafted, 
because  society  demands  it  of  them.  This  factor  of  will  is 
very  manifest  everywhere. 

But  the  will  of  associated  men  also  manifests  itself  in  actions 
voluntarily  chosen,  in  free  contracts  and  agreements.  This  is 
the  side  of  the  matter  brought  out  by  De  Greef. 

As  men  advance  in  civilization  they  are  more  capable  of 
voluntary  cooperation,  less  in  need  of  some  coercive  control 
in  order  to  secure  effort. 

What  is  the  uniting  agent?  What  assurance  have  we  that 
ideas,  emotions,  affections,  wills,  may  not  run  off,  north, 
south,  east,  west,  scampering  in  all  directions,  without  ability 
to  congregate  and  accomplish  common  action?  Just  the  same 
assurance  that  we  have  that  a  person  will  not  from  a  blow  on 
his  head  instantly  fly  into  sections  labelled  "Intellect," 
"Heart,"  "Free  Will,"  like  the  parts  of  a  joint  snake. 


Sowc  Problems  of  Social  Psychology  335 

Man's  rational  nature  is  one,  and  each  individual  derives 
his  essential  being  from  one  kindred  source.  Back  to  this 
conclusion  we  are  forced  by  every  attempt  to  explain  the  facts 
of  continuous  habits  and  memories  in  persons,  and  especially 
in  associations  of  persons.  Here  we  are  at  the  line  where 
psychology  passes  into  philosophy. 

V.  The  Psychical  Process.  —  What  is  the  method  or  process 
by  which  this  psychical  state  of  union  is  produced?  Does 
it  not  seem  to  include  many  stages  or  phases,  although  all  of 
them  may  be  observed  at  once,  as  buds,  blossoms,  and  fruit 
may  be  seen  on  one  orange  tree? 

There  must  be  a  common  presentatio?i  of  the  symbols  of 
knowledge  and  ideas  to  a  number  of  persons,  two  or  more  up 
to  millions.  Ideas  are  not  communicated  as  sun-rays  or  waves 
of  force  are  made  to  travel.  Nor  do  ideas  descend  by  physical 
generation,  as  plants  grow  out  of  seeds,  produce  new  seeds, 
and  send  them  flying  with  the  winds  and  birds  to  start  colonies 
of  their  kind.  Ideas  pass  from  mind  to  mind  by  some  method 
of  presentation.  The  mother  shows  her  child  how  to  sew  by 
doing  the  act  before  her  eyes.  The  teacher  wishes  a  child  to 
learn  to  draw  or  fashion  a  form  in  plastic  clay,  and  achieves 
the  desired  result  by  placing  the  materials,  models,  and  process 
before  the  eyes. 

Suggestion  and  Imitation.  —  It  has  been  claimed  that  the 
process  of  socialization  or  society-making  is  explained  by 
imitation.  It  has  been  represented  that  the  learner  imports 
something  from  his  neighbor's  mind  and  so  lays  in  a  stock 
for  himself,  and  that  this  process  goes  on  between  multi- 
tudes of  individuals  until  all  are  in  possession  of  the  spiritual 
goods. 

The  fact  of  suggestion  and  imitation  has  long  been  observed 
and  its  significance  noted,  but  of  late  it  has  come  into  great 
prominence,  and  has  been  declared  to  be  the  full  and  entire 
explanation  of  the  communication  of  ideas  in  widening  circles 
of  knowledge  and  agreement.  The  child  and  the  man  do 
unquestionably  receive  information  and  spiritual  stimuli  from 
their  companions  and  fellow-citizens,  through  gestures,  sounds, 
pictures,  printed  words,  poems,  and  novels.  It  is  easy  to 
watch  this  process  going  forward  in  any  family,  kindergarten, 


336  Social  Elements 


or  university  class-room.  In  large  and  crowded  assemblies, 
under  the  spell  of  a  magnetic  orator,  something  mesmeric, 
hypnotizing,  seems  to  radiate  from  a  commanding  personality 
to  enchant  or  intoxicate  the  auditors. 

But  there  is  grave  danger  that  we  shall  miss  the  essential 
spiritual  facts  in  the  observation  of  the  outward  form  and 
media  of  the  process.  We  may  persuade  ourselves  that  by 
collecting  many  examples  of  imitation  in  response  to  sugges- 
tion that  we  have  explained  the  mental  process  of  assimilation 
and  unification  which  is  the  essence  of  association.  The 
mere  conveyance  on  a  raft  of  words  or  gestures  of  foreign 
wares  from  one  person  to  another  is  the  husk  of  the  process, 
not  its  central  truth.  A  deeper  and  a  truer  representation 
is  that  suggestion  gives  a  hint  to  a  self-active  and  creative 
muni  of  its  own  native  and  original  but  yet  unawakened 
powers.  Imitation  is  the  reaction  upon  suggestion,  the  sign 
that  the  hint  has  entered  the  soul  and  set  it  to  the  wo?'k  of  self- 
development. 

It  is  not  enough  to  tell  us  that  there  has  been  imitation  of 
something;  we  must  further  inquire  whence  came  the  thing 
imitated  and  the  faculty  for  understanding  and  responding  to 
the  mediating  symbol. 

If  the  English  people  had  not  had  a  moral  nature  akin  to  the 
best  in  Edmund  Burke,  they  never  could  have  understood  his 
lofty  appeals.  Gladstone  was  brother  and  unit  of  the  same 
race,  and  the  vibration  of  his  soul  set  harmonious  chords  to 
thrill  with  the  same  emotions  and  convictions  which  aroused 
him  to  eloquence.  Social  communication  is  not  the  manu- 
facture outright  of  a  totally  new  article,  but  the  expansion  and 
development  of  a  common  nature. 

The  essence  of  the  process  of  socialization,  the  formation 
of  a  social  organization,  is  not  in  some  mechanical  and  passive 
reception  like  that  of  the  image  on  a  sensitized  photographic 
plate.  It  is  the  discovery  of  a  vital  kinship,  of  an  actual 
fraternity  which  is  psychical  and  not  of  the  flesh. 

Plato's  doctrine  of  reminiscence  hints  at  a  more  profound 
verity,  fanciful  as  it  may  seem,  than  the  purely  outward  notion 
of  imitation  as  something  ultimate.  Wordsworth  has  sym- 
bolized this  deeper  truth  in  the  famous  Ode;  — 


Some  Problems  of  Soeial  Psychology  337 


"  Our  birth  is  but  B  sleep  and  a  forgetting: 
The  Soul  that  rises  with  us,  our  life's  Star, 
I  lath  had  elsewhere  its  setting, 
Anil  cometh  from  afar: 
Not  in  entire  forget  fulness. 
And  not  in  utter  nakedness, 
But  trailing  clouds  of  glory,  do  we  come 
From  God,  who  is  our  home." 

Learning  is  recognition  of  one's  own  being.  No  material 
atoms  pass  over  from  teacher  to  pupil;  nothing  is  lost  from 
the  former,  and  nothing  is  piled  upon  the  latter.  At  the 
moment  of  communication  there  may  be  the  flash  of  vision 
and  the  birth-cry  of  a  new-born  power.  Suggestions  are  far 
from  being  the  ultimate  psychological  explanations  of  the 
process  of  communication.  They  are  the  mediating  methods 
by  which  the  soul  comes  to  its  own  and  finds  its  true  self  in 
fellowship  and  not  in  isolation. 

The  purpose  of  teaching  by  imitation  is  to  elevate  men 
above  the  slavery  of  imitation.  Mere  copying  is  not  the  last 
and  noblest  fruit  of  culture.  Rather  do  we  seek  to  evolve 
free,  self-conscious,  self-governing  personalities.  "What  is 
fashion,  with  its  apparently  capricious  changes,  but  the  method 
of  emancipating  individuals  from  the  tyranny  of  old  customs 
and  usages  that  insist  on  minute  punctilios  in  matters  that 
are  unimportant  except  as  symbols  of  our  membership  in  the 
social  whole?  Thus  one  kind  of  imitation  supplants  another 
as  more  progressive.  The  fashions  of  the  semi-civilized  and 
savage  people  last  without  change  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion —  and,  indeed,  it  is  likely  for  hundreds  and  even  for 
thousands  of  years  —  because  the  savage  intellect  cannot  as  yet 
attain  the  strength  to  discriminate  between  moral  and  indiffer- 
ent actions.  The  savage  has  only  two  kinds  of  deeds,  moral 
and  immoral;  while  the  civilized  man  has  three  kinds,  moral, 
immoral,  and  unmoral.  Thus  that  form  of  imitation  which 
we  all  despise  as  mere  fashion  has  significance  as  the  means 
of  emancipating  us  from  that  heavy  yoke  of  ceremonial  that 
once  prescribed  the  forms  of  our  indifferent  actions  as  though 
they  were  of  moral  or  religious  import."  1 

1  W.  T.  Harris,  Psychologic  Foundations,  p.  300. 


/ 


338  Social  Elements 


Invention  accompanies  imitation.  It  introduces  new  fac- 
tors into  the  symbols  of  expression.  Invention,  however,  does 
not  differ  essentially  from  imitation,  for  man  does  not  create 
absolutely  new  objects;  he  only  combines  and  composes  what 
he  has  seen.  These  new  compositions  of  image,  tricks  of 
doing  and  making,  enter  by  imitation  into  the  common  life. 
What  is  discovered  passes  in  ever-widening  circles  from  man 
to  man,  from  group  to  group,  until  the  wave  of  knowledge 
breaks  against  some  Chinese  wall  of  exclusion,  obduracy, 
prejudice,  custom  hardened  into  vice,  degradation,  and  igno- 
rance. There  it  rolls  back  only  to  accumulate  wave  upon  wave 
of  renewed  energy  sufficient  at  last  to  overthrow  the  barrier 
and  flow  onward. 

This  whole  process  of  imitation  is  a  grand  system  and  inter- 
lacing network  of  interchange.  Thoughts  travel  in  a  luminous 
and  heated  atmosphere  of  emotions  of  all  kinds,  as  meteors 
take  fire  and  blaze  in  passing  through  the  air  of  our  earth. 
They  combine  and  recombine  in  decisions,  contracts,  agree- 
ments, laws,  institutions,  until  all  that  is  desirable  becomes 
the  possession  of  mankind. 

The  process  is  ever  renewed,  never  absolutely  finished. 
New  ideas  are  started  on  a  journey  around  the  world,  meet 
friends  on  the  way,  form  caravans,  and  partnerships,  grow 
richer  in  their  wanderings,  and  return,  scarcely  recognizable, 
after  their  world-embracing  voyages.1 

VI.  The  Testing  Process.  —  All  the  contents  of  the  social 
mind  are  forever  subjected  to  a  trial.  The  struggle  for  exist- 
ence seems  to  be  carried  up  from  the  world  of  brute  life  to  the 
"powers  of  the  air,"  good  as  well  as  bad.  As  in  the  ancient 
dream  of  battle,  when  night  fell  and  the  earthly  combatants 
sank  weary  on  the  earth,  the  gods  took  up  the  strife  and  con- 
tinued the  war  in  the  heavens. 

.  "  The  clashing  of  creeds  and  the  strife 

Of  many  beliefs  that  in  vain 
Perplex  man's  heart  and  brain, 
Are  nought  but  the  rustle  of  leaves 
When  the  breath  of  God  upheaves 
The  boughs  of  the  tree  of  life." 


1  Read  Tennyson's  Ulysses. 


So j tic-  Problems  of  Social  Psychology  339 

This  is  the  significance  of  controversy  in  theology,  philoso- 
phy, science,  and  art,  that  theories  are  brought  to  trial  by  the 
competent,  error  is  winnowed  out,  the  wheat  remains  on  the 
threshing-floor.  The  bad  passions  of  men,  their  vanity,  jeal- 
ousy, and  pride,  make  it  certain  that  no  discovery  shall  pass 
into  current  thought  without  a  challenge.  Even  if  the  dis- 
putes of  men  of  science  and  politics  become  somewhat 
more  urbane  and  gentle,  there  will  still  be  a  rigorous  demand 
for  demonstration  of  hypotheses  and  plausible  speculations. 
The  unlearned  public  has  in  this  process  its  best  guarantee 
that  it  is  not  imposed  upon  by  pretended  experts.  No  legal 
censorship  can  ever  be  half  so  effective  in  the  suppression  of 
incompetency  as  the  censorship  which  scholars  and  rivals 
exercise  in  academic  life,  in  publication,  and  in  political 
rivalries. 

The  founders  of  our  republic,  instructed  by  the  wisdom  of 
the  centuries,  wisely  provided  for  deliberation  in  the  formation 
of  public  opinion  and  the  enactment  of  laws.  They  provided 
that  there  should  be  two  chambers  in  the  national  legislature, 
so  that  the  people  would  have  time  for  consideration  and  re- 
flection, and  thus  be  able  to  fix  at  last  on  the  ripened  results 
of  investigation  and  meditation.  It  was  not  out  of  distrust  of 
the  people,  but  from  familiarity  with  the  only  method  by 
which  truth  can  be  discovered,  for  truth  is  "the  daughter  of 
time  and  of  discussion."  We  may  be  impatient  with  this 
tedious  process,  but  the  alternative  is  practically  mob  rule, 
and  that  is  inconsistent  with  both  order  and  progress. 

In  the  same  way  they  gave  us,  out  of  long  historic  experi- 
ence, a  judicial  system  which,  though  often  vexing  for  its 
proverbial  delays  and  sometimes  perverted  by  criminals,  is  yet 
the  safeguard  of  judgment  and  of  the  rights  of  individuals. 

VII.  The  Consen>ation  or  Capitalization  of  the  Spiritual 
Fund.  — That  which  is  learned  by  the  son  from  the  father  or 
by  the  apprentice  from  the  master  is  stored  in  an  individual 
memory.  Much  of  device  and  knowledge  has  thus  been  pre- 
served for  long  periods.  Imitative  customs  and  fashions  take 
up  and  hold  many  of  the  inventions  which  have  added 
valuable  elements  to  the  thought  of  mankind.  But  it  is  in 
written  and  printed  documents  and  books,  in  works  of  useful 


340  Social  Elements 


or  beautiful  art,  and  in  the  permanent  institutions  of  men  that 
the  contents  of  the  social  mind,  including  all  the  truths  and 
principles  reached  by  investigation  and  experience,  are  pre- 
served from  loss.  Not  that  this  magnificent  heritage  of  knowl- 
edge can  ever  be  mastered  by  every  citizen,  but  that  all  of  it 
and  each  part  is  accessible  to  all.  No  one  man  ever  read  all 
the  books  in  the  British  Museum  or  the  Congressional  library; 
but  any  scholar  can  use  any  item  which  finds  a  home  in  those 
wonderful  collections. 

Knowledge  is  ordinarily  preserved  chiefly  by  use.  It  is 
true  that  monuments  and  records  may  for  ages  keep  the 
thoughts  entrusted  to  them,  but  forgotten  and  idle  knowledge 
is  only  too  apt  to  perish.  In  the  living  traditions,  the  beloved 
songs,  the  controlling  and  administered  laws,  wisdom  is  most 
securely  enshrined. 

VIII.  Transmission  of  Ideas.  — ■  The  ordinary  means  of 
preservation  are  also  the  ordinary  vehicles  of  transmission  of 
knowledge.  Influences  and  emotions  will  not  carry  across 
oceans  or  ages.  But  the  symbols  of  thinking  register  and 
convey  the  knowledge,  the  ideas  which  have  the  magic  power 
of  kindling  emotion  long  after  the  composer,  the  poet,  or  the 
orator  has  become  dust.  There  are  no  "dead  languages." 
The  Assyrian  inscriptions  probably  kindled  at  their  resurrec- 
tion and  decipherment  more  interest  than  they  did  with  the 
contemporaries  of  the  writers.  Cathedrals  are  not  dead;  for 
the  visitors  and  worshippers  to-day  hear  the  chants  of  medi- 
aeval monks  reverberated  in  the  solemn  aisles. 

The  methods  of  transmission  are  various  as  the  situations  of 
mankind.  The  most  direct  method  is  that  of  personal  tradition 
in  presence,  as  in  conversation,  teaching,  or  the  public  ad- 
dress before  an  assembly. 

But  with  advance  in  the  arts  of  writing,  printing,  publica- 
tion, transportation,  and  distribution,  widely  separated  peoples 
receive  the  same  thought  at  nearly  the  same  time.  It  is  already 
quite  possible  for  audiences  separated  by  a  thousand  miles  to 
hear  a  speaker  during  the  moments  of  utterance.  But  still 
more  important  is  the  method  of  printed  publication  and  tele- 
graphic communication. 

Our  successors  in  time,  the  children  of  our  posterity,  will 


Some  Problems  of  Social  Psychology  341 

become  the  heirs  of  our  enlarging  fund  of  knowledge  through 
books,  papers,  and  libraries.  Not  only  contemporaries  but 
even  following  generations  are  helped  to  enter  into  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  spiritual  treasures  of  any  age,  and  thus  a  psychi- 
cal union  is  effected  which  makes  mankind  one. 

"  The  perpetuity  by  generation  is  common  to  beasts,  but  memory,  merit, 
anil  noble  works  are  proper  to  men  —  and  surely  a  man  shall  see  the 
noblest  works  and  foundations  have  proceeded  from  childless  men,  which 
have  sought  to  express  the  images  of  their  minds,  when  those  of  their 
bodies  have  failed  —  so  the  care  of  posterity  is  most  in  them  that  have  no 
posterity."  * 

IX.  The  formation  of  a  socialized  character  in  individuals, 
we  may  hope,  is  a  tendency  of  our  race  development.  Of 
the  future  we  cannot  speak  with  the  same  confidence  which  we 
use  in  speaking  of  what  is  already  accomplished.  But  if  we 
can  reason  from  experience  and  history,  if  we  can  form  any 
estimate  of  what  is  to  come  from  the  prevalence  of  known 
forces,  then  we  have  reasonable  ground  for  thinking  that  ego- 
ism will  yield  to  justice  and  to  generosity;  that  persons  will 
discover  that  their  real  individuality  is  found  only  in  service 
and  fellowship.  "The  ultimate  man  will  be  one  whose  private 
requirements  coincide  with  public  ones.  He  will  be  that 
manner  of  man  who,  in  spontaneously  fulfilling  his  own  nature, 
incidentally  performs  the  functions  of  a  social  unit;  and  yet 
is  only  enabled  to  fulfil  his  own  nature  by  all  others  doing  the 
like."2 

In  the  competitions  of  life  the  honest,  kind,  polite,  humane 
man  is  more  and  more  in  request.  The  cowboy  yields  to  the 
careful  dairyman,  the  rough  and  brutal  driver  to  the  patient 
and  cautious  coachman  who  treats  his  fine  horses  as  if  they 
had  rights  and  feelings.  Less  and  less  is  it  possible  for  a 
coarse  and  immoral  physician  to  gain  practice.  Competition 
compels  a  churlish  salesman  to  learn  to  tell  good  stories  and 
greet  customers  with  a  smile.  Every  manufacturer,  even  if 
he  is  somewhat  tricky  himself,  demands  honesty  of  his  clerks. 
Habits  thus  acquired  tend  to  become  fixed  and,  perhaps,  are 
transmitted  to  posterity  with  accumulating  force. 

1  Bacon,  0/ Parents  and  Children. 
-  Spencer,  Social  Statics. 


CHAPTER   XVI 
Harmony  with  the  Present  Order 

"  Self-reverence,  self-knowledge,  self-control, 
These  three  alone  lead  life  to  sovereign  power. 
Yet  not  for  power  (power  of  herself 
Would  come  uncalled  for),  but  to  live  by  law, 
Acting  the  law  we  live  by  without  fear; 
And,  because  right  is  right,  to  follow  right 
Were  wisdom  in  the  scorn  of  consequence." 

—  Tennyson. 

"The  science  which  deals  with  social  welfare  may  always  be  regarded 
as  a  master  science  in  human  studies,  not  indeed  in  the  sense  that,  like 
Logic,  it  regulates  their  principles,  but  in  the  sense  that  it  determines 
their  worth.  It  is  worth  while  to  know  Social  Philosophy,  because,  until 
we  know  that,  we  do  not  know  what  else  it  is  worth  while  to  know." 

—  Mackenzie,  Social  Philosophy. 

"  Two  things  move  me  to  ever  greater  awe :  the  starry  heaven  above 
me  and  the  moral  law  within  me.  Duty !  Words  so  sublime  and  full  of 
meaning,  whence  art  thou,  and  what  origin  is  worthy  of  thee  ?  Thou  dost 
not  appeal  to  us  through  the  persuasiveness  of  passion;  not  by  threats  dost 
thou  seek  to  stir  our  wills;  thou  wouldst  not  have  us  shrink  from  thee  in 
fear  and  terror.  But  thou  settest  up  a  law  which  is  of  our  own  souls :  to 
this  law  thou  exactest  unconditional  submission.  Before  the  law  we  bow 
in  awe,  even  though  not  always  in  obedience;  all  feelings  retire  before  it 
in  silence,  even  though  they  may  seek  to  evade  its  decrees." 

—  Immanuel  Kant. 

"  How  to  fill  a  breach 
With  olive  branches;  how  to  quench  a  lie  with  truth,  and  smite  a  foe  upon 

the  cheek 
With  Christ's  most  conquering  kiss !  "  —  E.  B.  Browning. 

"  In  a  state  where  men  are  tempted  still 
To  evil  for  a  guard  against  worse  ill  : 
And  what  in  quality  or  act  is  best 
Doth  seldom  on  a  right  foundation  rest, 
Fixes  his  good  on  good  alone,  and  owes 
To  virtue  every  triumph  that  he  knows." 

—  Wordsworth. 

342 


Harmony  with  the  Present  Order  343 

"Thus  some,  in  consideration  of  the  pretended  rights  of  the  individual, 
have  organized,  or  rather  disorganized,  society  by  founding  it  upon  the  sole 
basis  of  unlimited  freedom  of  competition;  while  others,  merely  regarding 
social  unity,  would  give  the  government  the  monopoly  of  all  the  productive 
forces  of  the  State.  The  first  of  these  conceptions  has  resulted  in  all  the 
evils  of  anarchy.  The  second  would  result  in  immobility  and  all  the  evils 
of  tyranny. 

"  God  has  given  you  both  the  consent  of  your  fellow  men  and  your  own 
conscience,  even  as  two  wings  wherewith  to  elevate  yourselves  towards 
Him.  Why  persist  in  cutting  off  one  of  them?  Wherefore  either  isolate 
yourselves  from,  or  absorb  yourselves  in,  the  world?  Why  seek  to  stifle 
either  the  voice  of  the  individual  or  of  the  human  race?  Both  are  sacred. 
God  speaks  through  each.  Whensoever  they  agree,  whensoever  the  cry 
of  your  own  conscience  is  ratified  by  the  consent  of  Humanity,  God  is 
there.  Then  you  are  certain  of  having  found  the  truth,  for  the  one  is  the 
verification  of  the  other. 

"  If  your  duties  were  merely  negative,  if  they  merely  consisted  in  not 
doing  evil,  in  not  injuring  your  brother  man,  perhaps,  even  in  the  stage 
of  development  which  the  least  educated  among  you  have  reached,  the 
voice  of  conscience  might  suffice  you  for  a  guide.  You  are  born  with  a 
tendency  towards  good,  and  every  time  you  commit  what  mankind  has 
agreed  to  name  sin,  there  is  a  something  within  you  that  condemns  you, 
a  cry  of  reproval  which  you  may  conceal  from  others,  but  cannot  from 
yourselves. 

"  But  your  most  important  duties  are  positive.  It  is  not  enough  not  to 
do.     You  are  bound  to  act." —  Mazzini. 


Life  is  a  series  of  problems,  and  all  involve  some  moral  ele- 
ment. The  question  "What  ought  I  to  do?  "  stares  us  in  the 
face  at  the  turn  of  every  corner.  Take  examples.  A  gentle- 
man came,  no  matter  how,  to  believe  sincerely  that  we  ought 
not  to  call  physicians  for  the  sick,  nor  to  administer  medi- 
cines, noi  use  the  results  of  experience,  science,  and  art;  and 
that  we  should  have  "faith,"  deny  the  reality  of  sickness, 
ignore  pain,  and  believe  that  health  will  certainly  follow. 
This  theory  led  the  gentleman  to  refuse  to  call  a  physician 
when,  as  common  mortals  thought,  his  daughter  was  desper- 
ately ill.  She  died,  and  learned  men  said  that  any  doctor  of 
ordinary  skill  could  have  saved  her  life.  In  such  a  case  what 
should  the  community  think?  What  should  health  boards  and 
sanitary  police  do? 

Turn  to  a  different  problem.  The  Mormons  thought  they 
had  a  heavenly  revelation  commanding  each  man  to  take  two 


344  Social  Elements 


or  more  wives.  The  Gentiles  drove  them  out  from  place  to 
place,  and,  finally,  the  federal  government  prohibited  them 
from  practising  according  to  their  religious  creed  in  Utah. 
On  what  ethical  ground  was  this  act  of  repression  exercised? 

A  shopkeeper  persists  in  extending  his  establishment  over 
the  sidewalk,  much  to  the  inconvenience  of  the  public.  Why 
should  he  not  do  as  he  chooses?  A  young  man  claims  the  right 
to  drive  over  the  left  side  of  a  double  bridge  and  meets  a  wagon 
in  the  dark.  Who  has  right  of  way?  Ordinary  experience 
will  suggest  and  supply  thousands  of  concrete  problems  in 
which  the  question  arises,  What  is  right?  Why  is  one  act 
right  and  another  wrong?  What  motives  are  commendable 
and  what  are  to  be  censured? 

It  is  not  proposed  here  to  give  a  treatise  on  ethics,  but  to 
show  that  ethics  and  sociology  are  connected;  that  they  deal 
from  different  sides  with  the  same  elements,  the  same  life;  and 
that  in  starting  with  either  study  we  are  compelled  to  regard 
the  lessons  of  the  other.  If  we  begin  with  the  study  of  the 
spirit,  we  discover  the  sense  of  obligation,  duty,  conscience. 
The  nature  of  the  moral  person  testifies  to  the  existence  of  a 
moral  order.  It  is  in  the  social  world,  however,  that  the  full 
meaning  of  these  ethical  claims  becomes  apparent.  It  is  in 
social  contact  and  experience  that  the  moral  nature  is  stirred 
to  life.  It  is  in  fixed  institutions  that  the  regulation  of  con- 
duct is  formally  manifested.  It  is  by  social  conditions  that 
particular  duties  are  determined.  It  is  by  their  final  effect  on 
social  welfare  that  modes  of  action  are  judged. 

/.  The  Purpose  or  End  of  Order.  —  It  is  generally  agreed 
that  the  purpose  of  maintaining  order  and  harmony  of  conduct 
is  to  secure  and  promote  the  common  good.  If  one  should  say 
the  object  of  social  systems  is  to  make  men  generally  miserable 
and  wicked  the  thought  would  be  rejected  by  all  without  ex- 
ception. If  any  one  who  had  power  or  influence  declared  it 
to  be  his  purpose  to  disturb  the  peace,  the  unity,  and  the 
prosperous  occupations  of  society,  he  would  at  once  be  hurled 
from  his  seat  of  control.  Vice,  selfishness,  and  avarice,  when 
they  intend  to  seek  benefits  at  the  cost  of  the  community, 
always  pay  to  virtue  the  compliment  of  assuming  her  dress, 
tone,  and  voice.     There  never  was  a  "boss  "  in  city  hall,  or  a 


Harmony  with  the  Present  Order  345 

perjured  stock-jobber,  or  an  unscrupulous  franchise  thief,  who 
did  not  accomplish  his  selfish  purposes  by  loud  and  repeated 
proclamations  of  serving  the  dear  public.  Saints  and  sinners 
agree  that  the  general  welfare  is  the  end  of  right  conduct. 

The  appeal  here  must  be  to  our  own  nature  as  moral  persons. 
We  have  seen  that  nature  gives  us  no  certain  ethical  ideal,  for 
it  seems  utterly  indifferent  to  moral  distinctions  and  to  differ- 
ences of  character,  smiting  saint  and  sinner  with  the  same 
thunderbolt  or  summer  heat,  lint  in  moral  persons  we  dis- 
cover just  the  revelation  of  right  and  wrong,  of  good  and  evil, 
which  makes  us  think  of  moral  order.  If  our  own  nature  is 
irrational  or  devoid  of  reason,  then  it  is  vain  to  seek  any 
reasonable  end  of  life  and  conduct.  Assuming,  as  we  must 
assume  if  we  take  one  step  toward  the  discovery  of  the  mean- 
ing of  our  being,  that  our  nature  is  rational,  we  may  conclude 
that  the  realization  of  personality  is  the  supreme  purpose  of 
our  being  and  striving.  The  same  end  has  been  stated  by 
different  writers  in  different  words.  Thus  it  has  been  affirmed 
that  the  end  of  being  is  to  realize  ideal  freedom,  or  to  attain 
perfection,  or  to  develop  all  the  powers  of  our  nature  in  har- 
monious relations.  In  the  discussion  of  the  Social  Member 
or  Person  a  brief  analysis  was  made  of  the  essential  elements 
of  the  Person,  of  the  psychical  life,  as  powers  of  knowing,  of 
feeling,  and  of  will.  It  is  evident  that  the  highest  good  must 
include  the  activity  and  normal  growth  of  all  these  modes  of 
the  soul's  life. 

But  we  have  also  seen  that  this  Person  is  a  social  nature; 
that  his  faculties  cannot  grow  without  social  help;  the  con- 
tents of  his  knowledge,  feeling,  and  volition  are  derived  from 
contact  with  society;  the  treasures  of  mental  riches  are  the 
complex  product  of  all  the  past  experiences  and  inquiries  and 
triumphs  of  mankind;  only  by  loving  sympathy  with  others 
can  our  affections  be  warmed  into  consciousness;  only  by  the 
support  of  social  influences  is  our  will  sustained  in  the  choice 
of  the  right  and  the  worthy.  The  realization  of  our  own 
nature,  therefore,  cannot  exclude  but  must  include  a  sharing 
of  life  with  our  fellows,  persons  of  our  kind.  This  sharing 
must  not  only  be  a  receiving,  but  also  active,  creative,  giving. 
Only  in  reciprocity  does  our  rational  nature  unfold. 


346  Social  Elements 


Nature  is  part  of  our  world,  and  the  arts  are  the  means  of 
bringing  this  realm  of  being  into  due  subordination  to  man 
and  society.  It  is  partly  in  learning  the  forces,  laws,  and 
possibilities  of  nature  that  man  develops  his  powers  of  know- 
ing; by  his  useful  arts  he  not  only  brings  these  forces  to  serve 
his  wants,  but  becomes  master  of  himself.  In  the  arts  of 
beauty  man  brings  the  objects  of  nature  into  the  sphere  of  his 
aesthetic  life  and  satisfies  and  educates  that  life  in  the  creation 
or  appreciation  of  works  of  style.  And  as,  in  this  quest  of 
truth  and  this  active  making  of  useful  and  beautiful  objects, 
men  must  combine  and  agree,  the  fellowship  of  the  race  is 
cultivated,  men  realize  their  own  powers  in  their  sympathies; 
and  the  individual's  narrow  self  expands  into  a  wider,  spir- 
itual, social  self. 

Two  subjects  remain  to  be  discussed:  the  social  order, 
which  at  any  given  time  or  place  is  the  condition  of  realizing 
personality  in  the  individual  and  the  community,  and  last  of 
all  the  movement  of  the  race  toward  higher  ideals  and  richer 
realization  of  personality.  We  may,  in  other  words,  consider 
humanity  in  camp,  drilling  under  discipline  with  a  view  to 
struggle,  and  then  humanity  on  the  march,  by  regiments  and 
divisions,  toward  new  victories.  In  each  case  the  goal  is  the 
same,  the  persons  are  the  same;  only  the  point  of  view  is 
different.  In  this  chapter  we  are  to  consider  the  conditions 
essential  to  self-realization  in  the  order  of  society;  in  the 
next  and  last  chapter  the  conditions  of  discovery  and  realiza- 
tion of  a  growing  ideal  of  the  good.  The  mastery  of  nature, 
the  provision  of  a  social  organization,  and  the  adjustment  to 
new  conditions  and  relations  are  all  subordinate  factors  as 
means  of  the  grand  end  —  the  more  complete  realization  of 
our  rational  nature. 

Mackenzie  (Social Philosophy,  2d  ed.,  pp.  260,  261)  has  thus 
stated  the  social  ideal :  — 

"  It  is  enough  for  us  here  to  observe  that,  in  so  far  as  we  come  into  rela- 
tions to  other  human  beings  in  the  world,  we  are  attaining  to  a  partial 
realization  of  the  ideal  which  our  rational  nature  sets  before  us.  And 
there  is  no  other  way  by  which  we  come  to  such  realization.  In  so  far  as 
the  world  is  merely  material,  it  remains  foreign  and  unintelligible  to  us.  It 
is  only  in  the  lives  of  other  human  beings  that  we  find  a  world  in  which  we 


Harmony  with  tJie  Present  Order  347 

can  be  at  home.  Now  in  this  fact  we  obviously  find  a  much  deeper  sig- 
nificance for  the  organic  nature  of  society  than  any  we  have  yet  reached. 
For  we  see  that  the  society  of  other  human  beings  is  not  merely  a  means 
of  bringing  our  own  rational  nature  to  clearness,  but  is  the  only  object 
in  relation  to  which  such  clearness  can  be  attained.  It  may  be  asked, 
indeed,  —  Why  should  such  clearness  be  taken  as  our  end  at  all?  May  we 
not  rest  satisfied  with  the  mere  animal  life,  or  with  some  partial  attain- 
ment of  clearness,  such  as  we  find  in  the  working  out  of  some  particular 
science?  The  answer  obviously  is  that,  from  the  very  nature  of  our  rational 
being,  we  cannot  possibly  be  so  satisfied.  We  cannot  become  mere 
animals,  however  much  we  may  desire  it;  and  there  is  no  halting  place 
between  the  pure  animal  consciousness  and  attainment  of  our  highest  ideal. 
Every  step  we  take  in  the  way  of  seeing  our  world  as  a  universe  and  being 
at  home  in  it  inevitably  urges  on  to  a  step  beyond.  It  is  our  nature  to  seek 
to  make  such  advances,  just  as  it  is  the  nature  of  an  animal  being  to  satisfy 
its  animal  wants. 

"  Here,  then,  we  seem  at  last  to  have  found  out  what  the  true  nature  of 
man's  end  is;  and  we  see  that  end  is  by  its  very  nature  a  social  one.  It  is 
clear  too  that  the  end  which  we  have  now  defined  includes  everything 
which  we  '  divine  '  as  belonging  to  the  highest  good.  ...  It  includes 
what  we  have  described  as  the  objective  ends,  —  the  realization  of  Reason, 
( )rder,  and  Ueauty  in  the  world :  for  the  realization  of  them  is  part  of  our 
work  in  making  our  world  intelligible  and  clear  to  ourselves.  It  includes 
also  the  realization  of  Life  :  for  it  is  the  fulfilment  of  that  toward  which  our 
lives  as  rational  beings  strive :  and  in  the  fulfilment  of  this  for  ourselves 
there  is  involved  also  the  realization  of  the  lives  of  other  intelligent  beings : 
since  it  is  only  in  the  fulfilment  of  their  intelligent  nature  that  our  own  can 
receive  fulfilment.  It  includes  the  perfection  of  Knowledge  and  Wisdom, 
since  it  is  the  clearing  up  of  our  world  and  the  making  it  into  an  intelligible 
system.  It  includes  the  perfection  of  Will :  for  it  is  the  devotion  of  all 
the  energies  of  our  nature  to  that  end  which  we  recognize  as  our  highest 
ideal.  It  includes  the  perfection  of  Feeling :  for  it  is  the  attainment  of 
that  in  which  our  nature  as  rational  beings  would  find  full  satisfaction. 
And,  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  it  may  also  be  described  as  the  fulfilment  of 
the  divine  purpose  in  the  world :  for  it  is  the  attainment  of  that  which  is 
necessarily  taken  as  an  end  by  every  intelligent  being,  and  which  is  con- 
sequently the  only  end  at  which  we  can  suppose  a  Supreme  Intelligence 
to  aim.  .  .  ." 

Happiness  cannot  be  the  immediate  and  direct  end  of 
living,  acting,  and  of  social  organization. 

The  great  utilitarian  philosopher,  J.  S.  Mill  {Autobiography, 
Chap.  IV),  said:  — 

"  I  never,  indeed,  wavered  in  the  conviction  that  happiness  is  the  test 
of  all  rules  of  conduct  and  the  end  of  life.     Uut  I  now  thought  that  this 


348  Social  Elements 


end  was  only  to  be  attained  by  not  making  it  the  direct  end.  Those  only 
are  happy  (I  thought)  who  have  their  minds  fixed  on  some  object  other 
than  their  own  happiness;  on  the  happiness  of  others,  on  the  improve- 
ment of  mankind,  even  on  some  art  or  pursuit,  followed  not  as  a  means, 
but  as  itself  an  ideal  end.  Aiming  at  something  else,  they  find  happiness 
by  the  way.  The  enjoyments  of  life  (such  was  now  my  theory)  are  suffi- 
cient to  make  it  a  pleasant  thing,  when  they  are  taken  en  passant,  without 
1  icing  made  a  principal  object.  Once  make  them  so,  and  they  are  imme- 
diately felt  to  be  inefficient.  They  will  not  bear  a  scrutinizing  examination. 
Ask  yourself  whether  you  are  happy,  and  you  cease  to  be  so.  The  only 
chance  is  to  treat,  not  happiness,  but  some  end  external  to  it,  as  the  purpose 
of  life.  Let  your  self-consciousness,  your  scrutiny,  your  self-interrogation, 
exhaust  themselves  on  that;  and  if  otherwise  fortunately  circumstanced 
you  will  inhale  happiness  with  the  air  you  breathe,  without  dwelling  on  it, 
or  thinking  about  it,  without  either  forestalling  it  in  imagination,  or  put- 
ting it  to  flight  by  fatal  questioning.  This  theory  now  became  the  basis 
of  my  philosophy  of  life.  And  I  still  hold  to  it  as  the  best  theory  for  all 
those  who  have  but  a  moderate  degree  of  sensibility  and  of  capacity  for 
enjoyment;   that  is,  for  the  great  majority  of  mankind." 

.  This  passage  sounds  much  like  a  demonstration  of  the  bank- 
ruptcy of  the  proposed  creed  as  a  complete  account  of  the 
highest  good. 

This  statement  of  the  supreme  end  of  good  has  already  been 
brought  to  our  attention  as  we  noticed,  one  by  one,  the  various 
institutions  of  society.  Especially  did  we  find  it  necessary  to 
anticipate  this  discussion  when  we  were  considering  the  aim 
and  the  social  task  of  the  school  and  of  the  other  agencies  of 
education.  The  fact  is  that  all  institutions  have  one  supreme 
purpose,  that  of  society,  and  they  promote  this  purpose  by 
fulfilling  some  special  task,  by  furnishing  some  peculiar  and 
characteristic  element  in  the  good  of  being,  in  the  unfolding 
of  our  many-sided  nature.  Indeed,  it  is  only  by  studying  these 
various  modes  of  social  life  that  we  escape  from  the  barren 
and  vague  definition  of  the  spirit  and  discover  how  boundless 
and  varied  are  the  contents  of  our  souls.  Nothing  short  of 
the  world  itself  can  satisfy  the  least  of  mortals.  Aspiration 
and  want  are  infinite. 

77.  The  Belief  in  a  Right  Order. — There  is  a  large  prac- 
tical agreement  that  there  is  a  certain  system  and  order  of 
society  which  is  adapted  to  promote  this  common  good.  Men 
do  not  agree  on  all  points,   especially  in  matters  of  detail. 


Harmony  with  the  Present  Order  349 


There  are  extreme  cases  of  dissent,  men  of  genius  and  sanctity, 
lunatics,  martyrs,  fools,  madmen,  and  criminals.  Some  are 
too  good  to  live,  some  too  bad  and  unwise.  But  the  vast  bulk 
of  conduct  is  measured  and  judged  according  to  the  code  of 
the  time,  the  community,  or  the  class. 

As  men  grow  older  and  read  history  they  see  that  conditions 
slowly  change,  and  that  conduct  which  was  once  helpful  and 
sane  becomes  wrong  and  painful  and  injurious.  New  condi- 
tions call  for  new  kinds  of  action.  When  the  street  of  a  city 
is  crowded,  it  is  not  right  to  drive  rapidly,  as  it  would  be 
when  few  carriages  pass  over  it.  This  proves  no  more  than 
that  the  complexity  of  relations  is  recognized  in  definitions 
of  the  best  system  of  conduct.  For  example,  the  method  of 
management  of  a  rolling-mill  includes  such  different  elements 
as  the  place  and  duties  of  superintendents,  puddlers,  helpers, 
porters,  and  boys  who  carry  water  to  the  workmen. 

If  there  were  not  some  degree  of  practical  agreement  on  the 
conduct  which  is  required  and  expected  of  all  citizens  in  a 
given  time  and  place,  it  would  be  impossible  to  go  on  with 
the  business  of  life. 

The  ordinary  working  of  every-day  affairs  in  cities,  factories, 
church,  travel,  school,  rests  on  this  belief,  although  only  reflect- 
ing and  educated  persons  consciously  yield  to  the  custom  of 
the  age  on  this  ground.  Most  persons  act  by  imitation,  with- 
out considering  why  they  follow  the  usual  modes  of  conduct. 
If  any  one  moves  out  of  the  ordinary  path,  and  crosses  the 
way  of  others,  or  does  anything  irregular,  he  is  apt  to  clash 
with  his  fellows,  who  count  on  his  following  the  rule  of  the 
place. 

III.  An  Order  implies  Institutions  which  are  Parts  of  One 
System.  — The  good  state  of  things  for  a  given  time  and  country 
implies  a  certain  set  of  institutions  and  authorized  customs, 
recognized  as  suitable  by  the  community.  There  is  not  only 
a  general  belief  in  a  right  order,  but  this  belief  is  founded  on 
reality,  on  the  actual  order  into  which  every  human  being  is 
born.  The  individual  does  not  invent,  does  not  create,  this 
system  of  conduct,  but  is  encompassed  by  it  from  his  first 
breath.  The  family,  the  school,  the  customs  of  the  street,  the 
factory,  the  police,  are  parts  of  an  established  and  powerful 


350  Social  Elements 


system  which  touches  life  at  every  point,  and  never  relaxes 
its  claims. 

It  is  believed  in  this  country  that  social  welfare  demands 
that  no  man  shall  marry  more  than  one  wife,  and  the  domestic 
institutions  are  all  constructed  on  that  plan,  and  no  others  are 
openly  and  legally  tolerated. 

In  industrial  relations  there  is  a  general  belief  that  wages 
should  be  high  enough  for  men  to  support  their  families  as 
human  beings,  with  something  above  mere  animal  wants;  that 
the  hours  of  labor  and  the  intensity  of  toil  should  not  prema- 
turely sap  the  sources  of  physical  strength  and  unfit  men  for 
the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  existence.  It  is  further  re- 
quired by  this  general  belief  that  wages  should  be  paid  promptly 
at  regular  intervals  not  far  apart.  It  is  commonly  believed 
that  each  man  should  be  free  in  the  peaceful  possession  of  his 
property,  that  he  should  go  where  he  likes  and  engage  in  any 
occupation  which  is  agreeable  to  him,  so  long  as  he  does  not 
bring  damage  to  others.  Person,  property,  freedom,  and  good 
name  are  protected  by  this  belief,  and  without  such  security 
it  is  impossible  to  see  how  work  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness 
could  be  safely  carried  on.  The  description  of  social  insti- 
tutions already  given  reflects,  in  a  partial  way,  that  order  of 
things  and  conduct  which  is  generally  believed  to  be  condu- 
cive to  the  community  welfare. 

The  Various  Definitions  of  "Law."  —  It  is  desirable  at  this 
point  to  indicate  the  fact  that  the  word  "law"  is  used  in 
various  meanings,  which  should  be  carefully  distinguished, 
(i)  Law  may  mean  an  observed  uniformity  of  events.  For 
example,  there  is  the  law  of  the  tides,  which  rise  and  fall  so 
regularly  that  a  table  of  them  is  made  by  astronomers  months 
in  advance.  There  is  a  regular  order  of  occurrence  of  eclipses 
of  sun  and  moon;  a  regular  order  of  seasons;  of  the  flowering 
of  various  species  of  plants,  and  of  the  migration  and  nest- 
making  of  birds.  (2)  There  is  the  positive  law  of  the  statute- 
books  of  civilized  countries,  a  code  which  forbids  certain 
actions  and  permits  or  requires  others,  according  to  social 
relations.  (3)  There  is  the  moral  code,  which  tells  us  what  we 
ought  to  do  or  avoid  doing,  whether  the  statute  requires  it  or 
not,  and  it  even  goes  down  into  our  motives.      (4)  There  is  a 


Harmony  wit  It  tJic  Present  Order  351 

law  of  well-being,  whether  we  yet  see  it  or  not,  whether  we 
command  it  or  not,  deep  in  the  nature  of  the  world  and  of 
man.  All  our  moral  and  legal  codes  are  attempts,  more  or 
less  successful,  to  state  for  us  all  what  conduct  is  suitable  in 
view  of  this  fact  of  nature  and  life  taken  in  the  widest  sense. 

Statute  law  and  moral  codes  cover  the  same  ground,  although 
they  do  not  coincide  in  their  whole  extent.  For  example, 
both  the  moral  and  the  legal  codes  forbid  murder,  theft, 
adultery,  arson,  and  other  overt  acts.  But  morality  goes 
further  on  one  side  to  forbid  ingratitude,  misleading  language, 
careless  tattle,  and  ten  thousand  feelings  and  acts  which  the 
coarse  machinery  of  laws  and  courts  could  not  manage.  On 
the  other  hand  the  positive  statute  may  command  conduct 
about  matters  which  might  in  themselves  be  morally  indif- 
ferent, as  the  directions  relating  to  driving  over  bridges  and 
along  boulevards,  entering  omnibuses  or  railroad  cars. 

Statute  Law. — The  most  formal  statement  of  this  social 
belief  is  the  law  of  the  land  and  of  each  commonwealth,  civil 
and  criminal.  Here  one  may  find  a  careful  definition  of  acts 
which  are  forbidden,  and  directions  as  to  the  method  and  way 
by  which  men  must  proceed  in  their  dealings  with  each  other. 
The  government  is  the  institution  by  which  these  laws  are 
made,  interpreted  in  courts,  and  administered  by  executive 
officials  of  all  grades. 

The  common  and  statute  law,  recognized  by  courts  and  ex- 
ecutive officers,  enforced  by  the  machinery  of  governments, 
covers  the  various  relations  of  men  in  civil  life;  defines  the 
rights  and  duties  of  husband  and  wife,  of  parent  and  child, 
of  guardian  and  ward;  fixes  the  conditions  on  which  mar- 
riage may  be  contracted  or  dissolved;  specifies  the  kind  and 
amount  of  education  to  which  minor  children  are  entitled; 
provides  for  the  guardianship  of  imbecile  or  insane  persons; 
defines  the  obligations  and  liabilities  of  members  of  corpora- 
tions and  of  partnerships. 

The  ordinary  state  law  also  fixes  the  rights  of  property;  the 
mode  of  inheriting  estates  or  of  making  wills;  the  rights  of 
joint  owners;  the  powers  of  debtors  and  of  creditors;  the 
method  of  transferring  property  by  devise,  purchase,  or  de- 
scent; the  nature  and  obligations  of  various  kinds  of  contracts. 


352  Social  Elements 


There  is  also  a  law  of  crimes,  defining  those  acts  which  are 
regarded  by  the  community  as  hurtful  to  private  persons  or  as 
disturbing  the  public  peace  and  order,  or  as  weakening  the 
authority  of  the  state  itself. 

What  is  called  international  law  is  made  up  of  a  large  number 
of  principles  which  are  recognized  by  modern  civilized  govern- 
ments as  proper  regulations  of  nations  in  peace  and  in  war. 

The  complete  presentation  of  this  code  and  of  the  political 
machinery  for  stating,  interpreting,  and  executing  the  law  be- 
longs to  the  study  of  the  sciences  of  jurisprudence,  politics, 
and  administration. 

Morality  in  Conduct.  —  There  is  another  code,  which  cannot 
be  so  exactly  and  fully  formulated,  the  "code  of  ethics."  In 
works  of  morality,  sermons,  didactic  essays  of  duty,  poetry, 
orations,  and  in  common  conversation  the  moral  code  is  de- 
clared, interpreted,  applied  to  passing  events  and  acts  of 
public  and  private  persons.  Editorials,  when  they  lash  a 
culprit  or  expose  a  sinner,  either  clergyman,  bank  swindler, 
or  "  esteemed  contemporary,"  assume  that  there  is  in  the  minds 
of  their  readers  a  law  unwritten  but  authoritative. 

In  order  that  every  person  may  do  his  duty  and  adjust  him- 
self easily  and  quickly  to  the  motions  of  his  comrades,  and  in 
order  to  avoid  endless  disputes  without  a  fixed  standard  of 
appeal,  it  is  necessary  to  have  the  regulative  laws  and  customs 
formulated  and  made  definite  and  public.  It  is  not  enough 
to  leave  duties,  especially  important  rules,  to  a  general  and 
vague  understanding.  Very  much  of  our  daily  duty  must  be 
regulated  by  specific  and  minute  directions. 

"  I  have  already  referred  to  the  mischief  and  danger  that 
may  arise  from  customs  which  have  outlived  their  use,  but 
fixed  customs  .  .  .  are  essential  in  keeping  society  together, 
and,  as  all  scientific  students  of  ethics  have  come  to  see, 
morality  is  dependent  upon  institutions.  We  may  have  to 
fight  against  custom  to  get  a  hearing  for  new  ideas,  but  we 
must  make  use  of  custom  to  get  them  realized.  Ideas  can 
only  be  productive  of  their  full  benefit,  if  they  are  fixed  in 
institutions.  We  cannot  build  up  anything  on  a  mere  shifting 
basis  of  opinion."  ! 

1  D.  G.  Ritchie,  Darwinism  and  Politics. 


Harmony  with  tJie  Present  Order  353 

IV.  Habits  and  Actions  under  the  Social  Code.  —  The  code 
of  a  community  requires  certain  habits  and  actions  of  persons 
regulated  by  accepted  codes  of  morality,  positive  law,  and 
customs  of  convenience.  It  seems  probable  that  savages  liv- 
ing in  small  groups  and  with  very  limited  knowledge  of  the 
world,  with  coarse  intellectual  and  emotional  natures,  are 
most  apt  to  think  of  certain  definite  deeds  which  hurt  the 
members  of  the  group.  These  they  forbid  and  prevent  by 
means  customary  among  savages.  It  must  not  be  thought  that 
early  men  and  modern  savages  have  no  sympathies,  no  sense 
of  common  welfare.  They  do  manifest  those  affections  which 
even  animals  developed  before  men.  Long  before  there  were 
written  languages  there  must  have  been  an  understanding 
among  the  small  groups  of  rude  primitive  men  to  use  certain 
words  and  signs  in  a  uniform  sense,  and  thus  some  rudimentary 
kind  of  veracity  must  have  become  recognized.  It  would  not 
do  for  a  man  to  beat  his  wife  and  children  too  hard,  or  to  kill 
a  member  of  his  clan,  for  then  he  might  be  left  alone  with 
tigers  and  bloodthirsty  neighbors.  Obedience  to  the  head 
men  must  have  been  required  in  order  to  hold  the  group  intact 
and  make  it  strong  to  resist  the  incursions  of  strangers. 

Boys  in  playgrounds  develop  a  moral  code  of  actions  which 
consists  in  a  series  of  demands  laid  upon  each  member  of  the 
group,  and  which  require  definite  conduct.  In  playing  mar- 
bles or  ball  they  will  be  heard  shouting,  "That  is  not  fair,"  — 
a  direct  appeal  to  a  rule  which  all  understand. 

Each  profession  and  calling  has  its  own  code  of  ethical  con- 
duct, its  statutes  of  permissible  acts  and  of  prohibited  conduct. 
The  various  schools  of  medicine  have  drawn  up  these  laws  and 
printed  them  in  manuals,  and  they  have  means  of  punishing 
one  who  transgresses.  For  example,  they  brand  with  shame 
one  who  spreads  his  advertisements  in  the  newspaper.  Stock 
exchanges  and  some  other  bodies  of  men  in  business  have 
their  rules  of  admission,  dealing,  and  discipline,  and  they  find 
ways  of  punishing  those  who  sit  upon  the  'curbstone  "  to  play 
at  the  same  game.  Bar  associations  of  lawyers  have  a  system 
of  principles  by  which  they  admit  or  exclude  from  the  privi- 
lege of  pleading  causes  in  the  courts.  Horse  racers  and  gam- 
blers have   built  up  a  set  of   principles  which   regulate   the 

2A. 


354  Social  Elements 


"events"  of  the  turf  or  of  the  faro  banks.  In  contests  of 
base-ball,  foot-ball,  and  bicycle  sports  a  code  is  rapidly  evolved 
defining  the  acceptable  methods  of  winning  and  losing  games. 
None  are  crowned  unless  they  strive  lawfully. 

V.  The  Social  Virtues.  —  In  the  higher  stages  of  ethical 
development  we  not  only  require  of  ourselves  and  others  spe- 
cific actions  and  outward  habits,  but  also  certain  dispositions 
and  types  of  inward  character. 

It  is  the  duty  of  the  psychologist  and  of  the  ethical  philoso- 
pher to  treat  these  virtues  in  detail.  We  have  a  right  to  borrow 
from  them  here  in  order  to  round  out  our  survey  of  the  ele- 
ments and  conditions  of  social  order.  Harmony  in  society, 
if  it  reach  deeper  than  mere  external  quiet  enforced  by  physical 
powers,  means  inward  grace,  spiritual  acceptance,  and  volun- 
tary, cordial  adoption  of  those  personal  dispositions  which 
make  intercourse  sincere,  reliable,  and  fruitful  of  welfare. 

The  virtues  have  been  discussed  by  many  philosophers, 
prophets,  and  reformers  from  the  first  days  of  reflective  thought 
on  human  life.  One  of  the  most  important  interpretations  of 
the  Greek  wisdom  is  that  which  has  come  down  to  us  from  the 
genius  of  Plato.  The  Great  Teacher  of  goodness,  Jesus,  has 
left  an  entirely  independent  statement  of  his  own,  which  strikes 
home  to  the  very  core  of  moral  reality.  In  an  age  that  had 
many  rules  and  commandments,  an  age  lost  in  nice  distinc- 
tions and  formalities  He  summed  up  all  righteousness  and 
goodness  in  the  two  commandments  of  love  to  God  and  love 
to  man,  and  His  entire  career  was  a  living  illustration  of  this 
law  of  the  Father,  this  central  moral  principle  on  which  the 
rational  universe  is  built.  From  this  single  fountain  flow 
many  streams,  and  on  their  banks  flourish  many  varieties  of 
beautiful  trees  with  healing  leaves  and  wholesome  fruits. 

It  is  in  this  interior  life  that  we  find  the  sources  of  genuine 

and  lasting  social  order. 

"  In  every  government  though  terrors  reign, 
Though  tyrant  kings  or  tyrant  laws  restrain, 
How  small  of  all  that  human  hearts  endure, 
That  part  which  laws  or  kings  can  cause  or  cure." 

Professor  Dewey  thus  states  the  organic  connection  of  the 
cardinal  virtues :  — 


Harmony  with  tlte  Present  Order  355 

"  Love  is  justice  brought  to  self-consciousness,  justice  with  a  full,  instead 
of  partial,  standard  of  value;  justice  with  a  dynamic,  instead  of  static,  scale 
of  equivalency.  Psychologically,  then,  love  as  justice  is  not  simply  the 
supreme  virtue;  it  is  virtue.  It  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law— the  law  of 
sell".  Love  is  the  complete  identification  of  subject  and  object,  of  agent 
and  function,  ami,  therefore,  is  complete  in  every  phase.  It  is  complete 
interest  in,  full  attention  t",  the  objects  of  life,  and  thus  insures  responsi- 
bility. It  provides  the  channels  which  give  the  fullest  outlet  to  self,  which 
stirs  up  the  powers  and  keeps  them  at  their  fullest  tension  and  thus  guar- 
antees, or  is,  freedom,  adequate  self-expression.  It  alone  is  wisdom,  for 
anything  but  love  fails  to  penetrate  to  the  reality,  the  individuality  of  self 
in  every  act,  and  thus  comes  short  in  its  estimates  of  values.  It  alone  is 
courage,  for,  in  its  complete  identification  with  its  object,  obstacles  exist 
only  as  stimuli  to  renewed  action.  It  alone  is  temperance,  for  it  alone  pro- 
vides an  object  of  devotion  adequate  to  keep  the  agent  in  balance  and 
power.  It  alone  is  justice,  dealing  with  every  object,  aim,  and  circum- 
stance according  to  its  rights  as  a  constituent,  a  member,  an  organ  of  self 
—  the  sole  ultimate  and  absolute."1 

Courage  is  an  element  or  phase  of  love.  The  timid  mother, 
out  of  affection  for  her  endangered  child,  will  suddenly  dis- 
cover a  heroic  and  sublime  indifference  to  the  wrath  of  a  mob, 
the  demonic  flames  of  conflagration,  the  perils  of  the  jungle 
and  the  tiger's  lair.  Sweet  and  modest  spirits  have  gone  with 
hymns  to  the  martyr's  death  by  flood  or  stake,  for  love  of 
God.  Philanthropists  who  would  naturally  shrink  from  the 
foulness  of  prisons  and  lazarettos,  pluck  up  courage,  for  the 
sake  of  the  suffering,  to  visit  the  pitiful  objects  of  their  com- 
passion in  the  noisome  dungeon  and  the  pestilential  cell. 
Perfect  love  casts  out  fear. 

Temperance,  self-control,  is  an  element  in  love.  Unselfish 
affection  makes  self-restraint  and  self-denial  easy,  even  a 
luxury.  For  the  sake  of  the  loved  wife  or  child  the  voluptuary 
tightens  the  reins  upon  appetite,  and  places  a  strong  bit  in  the 
mouth  of  his  desires.  In  order  to  provide  for  the  little  ones, 
the  strong  man  denies  himself  tobacco,  stimulants,  and  other 
indulgences.  He  is  strong  because  others  need  him  to  be  his 
own  master. 

The  all-comprehending  virtue  includes  widsom,  the  prac- 
tical judgment  of  ends  and  means,  and  it  seeks  all  possible 
truth  and  knowledge.     Only  too  frequently  it  is  suggested  that 

1  Study  of  Jit  hies,  p.  150. 


35^ 


Social  Elements 


if  the  disposition  is  right,  ignorance  maybe  excused;  but  the 
disposition  is  not  right  when  one  rests  satisfied  in  ignorance 
when  he  might  by  effort  find  out  a  better  way.  Cupid  may  be 
blind,  but  Christian  love  "rejoices  in  the  truth,"  and  adds 
knowledge  to  faith  and  temperance,  and  "a  wise  man's  eyes 
are  in  his  head." 

"  The  modern  '  I  have  followed  my  conviction  '  finds  substantiality  only 
in  the  ancient  'wisdom  is  the  guarantee  of  all  virtues.'  There  is  and  can 
be  no  duty  of  living  up  to  conviction  till  we  have  some  surety  as  to  the 
rationality  of  conviction;  no  duty  of  'obeying  conscience'  till  we  have 
taken  pains  to  have  an  instructed  conscience.  Moral  education  requires  a 
shifting  of  the  centre  of  obligation,  locating  it  less  in  the  mere  doing  of 
what  seems  to  be  right  and  more  in  the  habit  of  searching  for  what  is  really 
right."  ! 

And  the  famous  English  critic  says:  — 

"There  is  a  view  in  which  all  the  love  of  our  neighbor,  the  impulses 
towards  action,  help,  and  beneficence,  the  desire  for  removing  human 
error,  clearing  human  confusion,  and  diminishing  human  misery,  the  noble 
aspiration  to  leave  the  world  better  and  happier  than  we  found  it,  —  motives 
eminently  such  as  are  called  social,  —  come  in  as  a  part  of  the  grounds  of 
culture,  and  the  main  and  preeminent  part.  ...  It  moves  by  the  force, 
not  merely  or  primarily  of  the  scientific  passion  for  pure  knowledge,  but 
also  of  the  moral  and  social  passion  for  doing  good.  As,  in  the  first  view 
of  it,  we  took  for  its  worthy  motto  Montesquieu's  words, '  To  render  an  intel- 
ligent being  yet  more  intelligent ! '  so,  in  the  second  view  of  it  there  is  no 
better  motto  which  it  can  have  than  these  words  of  Bishop  Wilson  :  '  To  make 
reason  and  the  will  of  God  prevail ! '  Only,  whereas  the  passion  for  doing 
is  apt  to  be  overhasty  in  determining  what  reason  and  the  will  of  God  say,  be- 
cause its  turn  is  for  acting  rather  than  thinking  and  it  wants  to  be  beginning 
to  act;  and  whereas  it  is  apt  to  take  its  own  conceptions,  which  proceed 
from  its  own  state  of  development  and  share  in  all  the  imperfections 
and  immaturities  of  this,  for  a  basis  of  action;  what  distinguishes  culture  is, 
that  it  is  possessed  by  the  scientific  passion  as  well  as  by  the  passion  of  doing 
good;  that  it  demands  worthy  notions  of  reason  and  the  will  of  God,  and 
does  not  suffer  its  own  crude  conceptions  to  substitute  themselves  for  them. 
And  knowing  that  no  action  or  institution  can  be  salutary  and  stable  which 
are  not  based  on  reason  and  the  will  of  God,  it  is  not  so  bent  on  acting  and 
instituting,  even  with  the  great  aim  of  diminishing  human  error  and  misery 
ever  before  its  thoughts,  but  that  it  can  remember  that  acting  and  institut- 
ing are  of  little  use,  unless  we  know  what  we  ought  to  act  and  to  institute."  2 

Justice  is  one  aspect  of  love.  A  wise  love  seeks  to  give  to 
each  man  his  due;  to  pay  obligations  before  buying  a  reputa- 

1  J.  Dewey,  The  Study  of  Ethics,  p.  150. 

2  Matthew  Arnold,  Culture  and  Anarchy,  p.  7-9. 


Harmony  with  the  Present  Order  357 

tion  for  philanthropy;  to  raise  the  wages  of  employees  before 
bestowing  liberal  alms  on  the  idle;  to  favor  honest  and  equal 
assessments  before  subscribing  to  missions  and  founding 
asylums;  to  demand  rectitude  in  a  legislator,  rather  than 
"  loyalty  "  to  henchmen  and  "heelers  ";  to  keep  promises  more 
than  to  parade  piety. 

Benevolence  is  a  manifestation  of  love;  and,  combined 
with  wisdom,  is  beneficence.  The  good  man  is  just,  and 
never  imagines  that  he  can  do  more  than  his  duty.  He  will 
not  claim  merit  with  God  nor  boast  his  virtue  before  men. 
But  he  will  go  beyond  the  strict  letter  of  the  statute  and  his 
contract;  he  will  not  exact  the  bond  to  the  cutting  away  of 
the  pound  of  flesh;  he  will  temper  his  own  demand  with  pity; 
his  hand  will  overflow  with  deeds  of  kindness  prompted  by 
gentleness  and  amiable  disposition. 

If  we  go  inward  more  deeply  from  the  consideration  of  the 
external  machinery  of  control,  we  may  discover  the  spiritual 
life  of  the  social  body.  Usages,  laws,  constitutions,  are  the 
coarse  shell  of  the  real  forces  which  maintain  order  and  hold 
men  to  duty.  In  the  principles  of  art,  understood  and  ac- 
cepted by  the  members  of  society,  are  the  real  regulators  of 
matters  of  taste.  The  system  of  moral  sentiments,  the  beliefs 
of  the  community  in  reference  to  virtues  and  duties,  surround 
us  all  with  an  atmosphere  of  bracing  convictions.  Govern- 
ment becomes  less  necessary  as  taste,  refinement  of  feeling, 
regard  for  the  rights  of  others,  come  to  sway  conduct* 

VI.  The  Enlargement  of  the  Moral  Field,  —  Moral  maturity 
is  marked  by  the  extension  of  the  code  of  conduct  and  of  vir- 
tues to  widening  spheres.  The  savage  may  be  very  kind  to 
his  own  family,  or  at  least  careful  not  to  inflict  destructive 
pains  upon  them.  He  keeps  his  word  with  his  clan,  even  at 
cost  of  life.  Tortured  in  fire,  the  Indian  would  not  beg  for 
mercy  nor  reveal  the  trail  of  his  tribesmen.  Toward  all  others 
he  was  treacherous,  cruel,  unfeeling  as  a  tiger,  to  man. 

There  is  honor  among  thieves,  though  they  show  none 
toward  the  public.  Gamblers  are  said  to  pay  their  "debts  of 
honor"  even  if  grocer  and  laundress  suffer,  and  the  green 
"lamb"  is  shorn  and  left  shivering. 

There  is  a  tribal  morality  which  recognizes  all  the  cardinal 


358  Social  Elements 


virtues  analyzed  and  praised  by  Plato,  but  only  for  "home 
consumption."  Foreigners  have  no  rights.  Like  a  sacred 
secret  this  domestic  virtue  must  not  be  vulgarized  by  ordinary 
exposure  to  wear.  People  of  the  same  nationality  or  language 
may  be  honest  and  charitable  among  themselves,  but  hostile  to 
others.  Where  employers  and  employees  come  to  regard  each 
other  as  belonging  to  different  castes,  there  a  sense  of  obliga- 
tion to  veracity,  kindness,  and  honesty  is  weakened.  Then 
we  have  the  singular  limitation  of  the  cardinal  virtues  which 
consists  in  excusing  crimes  done  to  others,  especially  to  people 
we  dislike,  on  account  of  some  gracious  act  done  to  ourselves. 
This  also  is  akin  to  tribal  morality.  The  fact  is,  that  in  both 
cases  the  instinct  which  is  followed  is  sound,  only  that  it  lacks 
breadth  of  application,  and  is  often  very  short-sighted. 

Moral  ripeness  is  marked  on  an  ascending  scale  of  qualities 
which  are  approved.  Savages,  bullies,  and  prize  fighters  call 
one  a  "good  man"  who  can  strike  hard  and  endure  blows; 
they  adore  physical  power.  At  a  little  higher  level  of  enlight- 
enment cunning  and  craft  command  honor.  In  reaction 
against  sensuality  and  voluptuousness  the  virtues  of  self-denial 
and  asceticism  are  reverenced.  With  advanced  culture  a 
symmetrical  and  many-sided  character,  rich  in  all  virtues  and 
endowments,  wins  social  esteem. 

A  remarkably  keen  analysis  of  a  ward  politician,  made  by 
Miss  Jane  Adams,  will  illustrate,  as  in  a  portrait  from  life, 
what  is  meant  by  provincial  or  tribal  morality,  as  distinguished 
from  social  morality.  Her  contention  is,  that  the  poor  people 
of  her  ward  vote  for  this  politician  and  give  him  power  for  his 
narrow  good  qualities  which  hide  from  them  the  subtle  and 
hidden  evil  acts  whose  stories  float  to  them  as  mere  rumors. 
They  know  little  of  any  other  public  save  their  own  neighbor- 
hood, and  in  the  great  outside  world  they  seem  to  discern  the 
looming  forms  of  their  alien  oppressors.  Only  when  the 
"better  classes"  prove  by  real  deeds  of  kindness  that  there  is 
a  city  to  care  for  them  will  they  be  able  to  expand  their  sen- 
timents of  justice  to  consider  this  larger  scope  of  city 
morality. 

"To  say  that  all  the  men  who  vote  for  him  are  equally  cor- 
rupt, or  that  they  approve  of  his  dealings,  is  manifestly  un- 


Harmony  with  the  Present  Order  359 


fair."  The  people  admire  and  revere  simple  goodness,  and 
the  corrupt  politician  seizes  upon  this  trait.  At  one  time  he 
had  twenty-six  hundred  men,  a  third  of  the  entire  ward  vote, 
on  the  public  pay  rolls.  He  bailed  the  men  out  of  the  police 
station,  helped  a  man  escape  the  bridewell  and  go  back  to 
support  his  family,  found  them  jobs,  gave  presents  at  weddings 
and  christenings,  patronized  church  bazaars,  gave  away  loads 
of  Christmas  turkeys,  and  was  always  a  kind,  sympathetic,  and 
helpful  friend  at  funerals.  These  poor  people  are  not  shocked 
to  hear  that  the  politician  gets  his  money  from  bribes,  for  they 
imagine  that  it  comes  from  the  rich  and  goes  to  the  poor. 
Many  think  their  alderman  is  like  others  in  securing  boodle, 
but  unlike  them  in  giving  a  share  of  the  spoils  to  his  constitu- 
ency. "The  sense  of  just  dealing  comes  apparently  much 
later  than  the  desire  for  protection  and  kindness.  The  alder- 
man is  really  elected  because  he  is  a  good  friend  and  neighbor. 
He  is  corrupt,  of  course,  but  he  is  not  elected  because  he  is 
corrupt,  but  rather  in  spite  of  it.  His  standard  suits  his  con- 
stituents. He  exemplifies  and  exaggerates  the  popular  type 
of  a  good  man."  They  admire  this  kind  of  man  also  because 
he  is  successful,  and  the  ward  is  full  of  lads  who  admire  him 
and  intend,  when  they  are  grown  up,  to  copy  his  ways.  "This 
lowering  of  the  standards,  this  setting  of  an  ideal,  is  perhaps 
the  worst  of  the  situation,  for  daily,  by  our  actions  and  deci- 
sions, we  not  only  determine  ideals  for  ourselves,  but  largely 
for  each  other.  We  are  all  involved  in  this  political  corrup- 
tion, and,  as  members  of  the  community,  stand  indicted. 
This  is  the  penalty  of  a  democracy, —  that  we  are  bound  to 
move  forward  or  retrograde  together.  None  of  us  can  stand 
aside,  for  our  feet  are  mired  in  the  same  soil  and  our  lungs 
breathe  the  same  air.  ...  If  the  so-called  more  enlightened 
members  of  the  community  accept  public  gifts  from  the  man 
who  buys  up  the  council,  and  the  so-called  less  enlightened 
members  accept  individual  gifts  from  the  man  who  sells  out 
the  council,  we  surely  must  take  our  punishment  together." 

As  to  the  thing  first  to  be  done,  no  deeper  word  has  been 
uttered  than  this:  "If  we  discover  that  men  of  low  ideals  and 
corrupt  practice  are  forming  popular  political  standards,  simply 
because  such  men  stand  by  and  for  and  with  the  people,  so 


360  Social  Elements 


that  the  sense  of  identification  overbalances  the  sense  of  out- 
raged ethics,  then  nothing  remains  for  us  but  to  obtain  that 
sense  of  identification  before  we  can  hope  to  modify  the 
ethics.  .  .  .  We  forget  what  Mazzini  so  many  times  told  us, 
that  the  great  word  of  the  century  is  association.  A  neigh- 
borhood of  less  sophisticated  people  has  one  advantage,  that 
when  a  dramatized  truth  does  reach  them,  it  excites  at  the 
same  time  hero  worship  and  their  disposition  to  follow.  They 
thus  balance  their  opinions  by  living;  and  it  is  conceivable 
that  their  big  emotional  ethics,  just  because  they  constantly 
result  in  activity,  have  in  them  a  possibility  for  a  higher  and 
wider  life  than  the  ethics  of  those  of  us  who  are  content  to 
hold  them  merely  as  a  possession.  .  .  .  We  may  learn  to 
trust  our  huge  and  uncouth  democracy  in  its  ethics,  as  we  are 
coming  to  trust  it  in  other  directions,  for  by  slow  degrees  the 
law  emerges.  That  conduct  which  opposes  the  ends  of  the 
common  weal  must  finally  give  way  to  conduct  which  furthers 
those  ends." 

VII.  Modes  of  Social  Control.  —  At  a  given  hour  in  the  life 
of  a  social  group  or  nation  there  is  a  mode  of  living,  or  order 
of  cooperative  action,  which  is  essential  to  its  very  existence. 
The  beliefs  and  ideals  of  the  members  of  the  group  in  respect 
to  this  order  are  expressed  in  their  ethical  system  and  teach- 
ings. The  ultimate  test  of  these  beliefs  lies,  not  in  the  feelings 
and  thoughts  of  men  alone,  but  in  the  fact  of  persistence  of 
the  group.  A  people  which  does  not  survive  in  the  struggles 
of  life  can  do  nothing;  its  thoughts  come  to  nothing;  its 
civilization  perishes  with  its  members.  Survival  may  not  be 
the  highest  mark  of  the  worth  of  a  social  ideal,  but  it  is 
an  essential  mark.  The  Indians  in  this  country,  even  when 
protected,  have  not  been  able  to  conform  themselves  to  the 
external  conditions  of  existence,  and  their  inflexibility  has 
destroyed  them;  they  are  passing  away.  The  natives  of  vari- 
ous islands  of  the  Pacific  are  dropping  out  of  sight  in  the  same 
way.  Whole  peoples  have  thus  been  blotted  out.  If  a  nation 
makes  a  mistake,  it  pays  the  penalty  with  its  life.  Sometimes 
a  group  may  not  become  extinct,  but  simply  becomes  subject 
and  tributary  to  a  stronger  race  or  class  and  lives  with  it  as 
burden-bearer.     There  is  infinite  variety  of  types  and  classes, 


Harmony  with  the  Present  Order  361 

adapted  to  an  ever-varying  and  developing  environment.  It 
is  not  one  quality,  but  many,  which  insure  survival.  The 
proportion  of  qualities  is  also  an  element  in  power  to  endure 
the  test  of  existence. 

In  this  sense  there  is  a  "natural  "  or  "normal  "  type  of  con- 
duct which  is  absolutely  imperative  for  every  man  and  for  every 
social  organization.  It  is  not  the  earliest  mode  of  being,  as 
the  savage;  it  is  not  an  unchanging  and  unvarying  mode;  but 
one,  rich,  endlessly  diversified,  and  growing.  We  can,  how- 
ever, think  of  the  group  at  a  single  moment  and  declare  that 
above  its  will,  independent  of  its  choices,  master  of  its  ideals, 
is  a  right  way,  a  system  of  conduct,  a  mode  of  being  and  doing, 
which  it  must  observe,  or  perish.  Call  it  fate,  or  providence, 
or  moral  law,  what  you  will;  it  is  here,  and  we  must  know  it 
and  conform  or  die.     Ignorance  and  neglect  are  deadly. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  sociology  to  find  what  this  order  is 
in  our  age,  and  it  is  necessary  to  make  this  study  for  every 
country,  and  even  for  limited  communities.  For  while  there 
are  certain  very  general  conditions  and  principles  which  are 
wide  and  permanent,  as  the  cardinal  virtues,  there  are  specific 
conditions  true  only  of  a  nation  or  a  commonwealth,  or  even 
of  a  township.  A  nation  which  should  breathe  excess  of 
carbonic  dioxide  or  should  become  thoroughly  dishonest  must 
disappear  anywhere.  But  a  negro  can  live  in  a  climate  which 
would  destroy  a  white  man,  and  the  form  of  government  suit- 
able for  Massachusetts  would  ruin  Mississippi. 

The  test  of  survival  may  be  called  the  minimum  test.  It 
was  the  sole  measure  of  conduct  for  plants  and  animals,  and 
savage  men  seem  to  live  near  the  margin  of  bare  existence. 
The  higher  societies  of  men  have  attained  a  nobler  standard 
of  the  right  mode  of  conduct,  and  they  insist  on  conditions 
not  only  of  being  but  of  well-being.  The  "economic  man" 
might  be  satisfied  if  laborers  received  enough  wages  to  live, 
work,  and  breed  more  human  drudges;  but  the  socialized  em- 
ployer seeks  conditions  favorable  to  the  advancement  of  per- 
sonality and  happiness  through  culture  and  free  activities. 
Society  no  longer  leaves  survival  to  be  determined  by  coarse 
physical  struggle,  in  which  not  the  best  endure,  but  the  mere 
average  and  toughest. 


362  Social  Elements 


We  come  now  to  the  question  of  the  enforcement  of  a  cur- 
rent belief  about  the  order  which  nature  declares  necessary  for 
our  being,  and  experience  and  reason  tell  us  are  desirable  for 
our  well-being.  In  earlier  ages  men  hit  the  right  way  by  acci- 
dent or  waited  for  the  external  pressure  of  immediate  and 
obvious  need.  In  modern  civilized  society  ends  and  ways 
become  the  subject  of  much  more  reflection,  deliberation,  fore- 
thought, and  planning. 

Unconscious  influence  is  active  and  passive,  creative  and 
receptive.  There  is  a  social  control  which  is  exercised  with- 
out devices,  unconsciously.  We  no  more  think  of  it  than  we 
think  of  the  air  we  breathe  until  some  one  mentions  the  fact 
that  we  are  taking  in  air  every  minute.  Primarily  the  law  is 
supported  by  the  social  nature  of  each  person.  He  is  born 
with  a  capacity  for  cooperation,  and  from  his  first  breath  he 
takes  and  gives  in  a  social  atmosphere.  Most  of  the  useful 
acts  of  life  are  done  instinctively,  unreflectingly,  by  those  who 
catch  the  spirit  and  breathe  the  motives  of  their  domestic  and 
industrial  and  political  environment.  We  have  already  seen 
how  the  inner  nature  of  each  individual  is  shaped  and  inspired 
by  the  community  in  which  he  is  reared.  The  product  of  this 
process  is  a  social  being  in  whose  heart  are  written  the  modes 
of  desire  and  volition  of  neighbors.  Society  is  constantly, 
steadily  pressing  its  members  into  the  moulds  of  traditional 
forms,  and  without  conscious  purpose  or  directed  effort,  modi- 
fying the  outward  acts  and  inner  nature  of  all.  The  uncon- 
scious influence  of  teacher,  parent,  sage,  as  well  as  of  custom 
and  public  opinion,  produces  results  in  this  way. 

There  is  also  need  of  conscious  effort  to  secure  conformity 
to  the  best  order.  It  is  very  evident  that  the  right  conduct  and 
disposition,  those  most  conducive  to  common  welfare,  do  not 
come  to  perfection  without  direct  effort  on  the  part  of  society. 
Our  ancestors  were  savages.  The  word  "  savage  "  carries  us 
back  to  the  time  when  it  was  thought  right  to  love  the  near 
neighbor  a  little  and  to  regard  the  tribe  who  lived  across  the 
river  or  over  the  mountain  as  a  natural  enemy.  The  pictures 
of  idyllic  innocence  and  gentle  manners  of  the  "state  of 
nature,"  which  were  so  popular  in  the  last  century,  have  no 
meaning  for  us. 


Harmony  with  the  Present  Order  363 

And  if  we  turn  to  our  contemporaries,  and  regard  them 
without  prejudice,  we  must  admit  their  inheritance  of  dis- 
rupting and  conflicting  tendencies.  "  Be  good  and  you  will 
be  lonesome  "  is  a  hard  and  cynical  phrase  of  wit,  but  it  has 
only  too  much  justification  in  actual  experience.  Parents  and 
school  teachers  are  under  no  illusion  on  this  subject.  The 
most  optimistic  man  of  affairs  may  be  very  fortunate  if  he  is 
not  exasperated  on  hot  days  with  present  ways  of  acting.  Jt 
is  not  necessary  to  go  to  penitentiaries  to  discover  refractory 
materials  of  human  nature. 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  measure  the  relative  power  of  sel- 
fishness and  benevolence  in  common  life.  Altruism  and 
egoism  grow  up  side  by  side.  In  some  soils  the  sensitive 
leaves  of  gentleness  and  consideration  are  quickly  withered 
in  the  hot  sun  of  trial,  while  elsewhere  self-devotion  is  carried 
to  excess.  All  that  is  necessary  for  our  present  purpose  is  the 
full  and  candid  admission  that  weeds  will  grow  in  any  garden 
to  the  exclusion  of  flowers  and  edible  vegetables,  unless  the 
gardener  takes  the  side  of  the  latter  and  champions  their  cause. 

If  we  believe  half  of  what  great  editors  say  about  each  other; 
of  what  politicians  declare  about  rivals  in  the  heat  of  cam- 
paigns; of  what  jealous  men  and  women  set  afloat  in  gossip; 
of  what  sectaries  affirm  of  heretics  in  the  moments  of  wrathful 
love  of  truth;  of  what  idle  rumor  hisses  down  every  wind, — 
we  can  see  that  this  rebellious  human  nature  of  ours  sadly 
needs  training. 

Who  shall  control?  —  The  actual  determining  factor  is  the 
common  will.  That  will  may  be  driven  by  passion,  may  be 
blind  with  prejudice,  cruel  as  the  grave,  and  urge  the  mass  of 
the  nation  straight  on  to  destruction;  but  there  is  no  appeal 
from  the  majority,  even  under  a  despotism.  The  people 
have  the  supreme  power,  subject  only  to  the  Power  above  all. 
If  they  are  wrong,  their  only  salvation  is  somehow  to  be  set 
right. 

There  is  usually  a  more  enlightened  minority  who  see  the 
better  way,  at  least  more  clearly  than  their  contemporaries. 
Happy  the  people  which  has  such  leaders  in  school,  church, 
and  state,  men  who  can  read  the  signs  of  the  times  and  inter- 
pret the  demands  of  nature,  the  law  of  welfare. 


364  Social  Elements 


"  A  people  is  but  the  attempt  of  many 
To  rise  to  the  completer  life  of  one; 
And  those  who  live  as  models  for  the  mass 
Are  singly  of  more  value  than  they  all."  —  R.  Browning. 

There  are  also  in  every  social  group  vigorous  but  narrow 
and  selfish  leaders  who  seek  power  and  control.  They  debauch 
the  public  mind.  They  purchase  newspapers  and  use  them 
to  pervert  and  blind  the  voters.  They  bribe  electors  and  cir- 
culate tons  of  misinformation.  They  cover  brutal  and  selfish 
schemes  with  the  cloak  of  charity,  and  recommend  poisonous 
nostrums  under  the  labels  of  justice,  freedom,  and  science. 

The  practical  result  is  a  compromise  of  all  these  forces.  It 
is  at  best  rough  justice,  and  it  can  never  be  said  with  clear 
certainty,  that  "the  voice  of  the  people  is  the  voice  of  God." 
But  we  must  somehow  stagger  on  and  move  with  such  guidance 
as  we  can  secure.  Life  will  not  stop;  hunger  must  be  ap- 
peased; industry  cannot  wait  for  absolute  right  and  infallible 
wisdom;  religion  does  its  service  with  only  a  balance  of  evi- 
dence in  its  favor;  and  room  for  a  doubt  is  everywhere.  So 
men  agree,  in  a  rough  way,  and  find  a  mode  of  stilling  con- 
troversy long  enough  to  accomplish  at  least  a  part  of  the  mis- 
sion of  existence.  If  they  select  the  worst  leaders,  they  find 
it  out  by  suffering,  increase  of  disease,  poverty,  mortality,  and 
even  extinction. 

The  determination  of  social  leadership  is  made  in  this  part 
of  the  endless  struggle  and  competition  of  ideals.  Those  who 
wish  to  influence  men  for  good  must  prepare  for  a  long  contest 
in  which  physical  powers  of  endurance,  tenacity,  and  aggres- 
siveness are  joined  to  superior  intellectual  resources.  The 
weakling  must  stay  in  his  corner. 

The  organs  of  control  axe  all  the  institutions  of  society,  since 
every  one  of  them  has,  as  part  of  its  constitution,  the  means  of 
directing  the  conduct  of  its  members.  From  the  hod-carrier's 
family  in  the  hovel  up  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States, 
housed  in  splendor  and  clothed  with  national  authority,  every 
social  organization  takes  part  in  this  great  task  of  bringing 
social  members  into  what  is  supposed  to  be  the  right  order. 

Proceeding  inward  from  the  outward  fact,  the  visible  em- 
bodiment of  social  regulation,  along  the  line  of  our  personal 


Harmony  with  tlie  Present  Order  365 

memories,  we  come  first  upon  family  government.  From  the 
earliest  moments  of  life  the  infant  is  subject  to  the  control  of 
the  mother  and  could  not  exist  without  it.  The  rhythm  of 
each  day,  answering  to  the  physical  rhythm  of  tides,  dawns, 
hunger,  heart-beats,  sleep,  and  waking,  is  directed  by  mother- 
rule.  The  citizen  takes  his  first  lessons  in  obedience  in  the 
cradle.  Law  begins  to  write  its  commands  upon  the  speech- 
less babe  and  shape  his  habits  long  before  he  can  reason.  If 
his  impulsive  cries  are  heeded  and  his  caprices  fostered,  he  is 
a  rebel  before  he  can  name  a  cat  or  articulate  his  mother's 
name.  Regularity  of  habit  fits  him  to  the  motions  of  the  stars, 
the  trains,  the  bells  of  shops,  the  calls  of  duty.  The  alphabet 
of  civic  virtue  and  duty  is  learned  in  infancy. 

Our  next  memories  of  government  are  those  of  teachers, 
schoolmasters.  They  "deliver  us  to  laws."  They  have  rules, 
rods,  sanctions,  laws,  penalties,  inducements  to  obedience. 
School  management  is  a  part  of  the  governmental  machinery 
of  the  universe.  It  is  a  function  of  kings  and  queens,  of  par- 
liaments and  parents,  of  councils  and  senates.  The  teacher, 
in  the  direction  of  conduct,  is  sharing  the  office  with  presi- 
dents and  governors,  is  a  personal  factor  in  social  control. 
School  and  family  government  are  not  merely  preparation  for 
participation  in  the  general  regulation  of  society;  they  are 
themselves  part  of  the  means  created  by  society  for  the  direc- 
tion of  individual  conduct.  "God  could  not  be  everywhere, 
so  He  made  mothers,"  said  the  Talmud.  The  government  of 
the  world  is  farmed  out,  and  its  offices  filled  by  the  heads  of 
departments,  domestic,  educational,  and  others.  Only  imagine 
the  task  of  a  legislature  having  directly  to  manage  a  troop  of 
bootblacks  in  a  waifs'  mission,  or  a  crowd  of  urchins  at  a 
picnic!  The  institutions  of  control  must  be  everywhere,  be- 
cause human  beings  are  everywhere,  and  each  group  must  set 
up  its  system  of  administration. 

Enter  a  factory  where  a  thousand  men  are  busy  manufact- 
uring steel  rails  or  machinery.  There,  also,  is  a  local  form 
of  government,  from  president  and  superintendent  down  to 
the  boy  who  carries  the  messages.  There  are  rules  which 
touch  every  act :  rules  governing  the  time  of  beginning,  dinner, 
closing;  rules  as  to  quality  and  quantity  of  products;  fines  for 


366  Social  Elements 


neglect  or  awkwardness;  threats  of  discharge  for  incompetence 
or  dishonesty  always  hanging  over  the  heads  of  employees; 
foremen  to  see  that  the  rules  are  followed  and  law-breakers 
brought  to  account.  As  soon  as  boy,  man,  or  girl  accepts  a 
place  for  wages  the  pressure  of  laws  begins  to  be  felt,  a  will 
outside  of  the  personal  will,  and  sometimes  in  collision  with  it. 

Customs  and  fashions  are  petty  tyrants  which  chastise  us 
into  social  conformity,  even  the  most  reluctant.  Customs  are 
more  ancient  and  seated,  as  the  custom  of  dress,  of  eating  at 
a  table,  of  observing  certain  holidays,  of  keeping  to  the  right 
on  a  public  road.  Fashions  are  just  as  imperative  but  more 
fleeting.  Yesterday  it  was  duty,  in  the  eye  of  fashion,  to  wear 
a  long  coat;  to-day  it  is  sin.  Short  tails  are  demanded  on 
the  ground  of  "right";  but  again  the  fashion  plates  are 
changed,  no  one  knows  where,  and  short  tails  are  criminal. 
One  hangs  his  head,  after  a  voyage  around  the  world,  because 
his  waistcoat  should  have  been  sent  to  the  museum  rather  than 
worn  to  the  reception.  Dame  Fashion  reigns  but  a  single  day, 
but  she  is  cruel  while  she  holds  the  sword. 

Censorship  is  another  whip  which  society  wields  to  "  haud 
the  wretch  in  order."  Gossip  sits  upon  the  front  steps  and 
scans  the  passers-by.  Her  judgments  are  final  and  her  darts 
are  mortal.  She  may  be  ugly  herself,  but  beauty  dreads  her 
tongue.  Gossip  chills  with  a  blast  of  frost  more  severe  than 
a  blizzard  from  the  north  pole,  burns  with  fire  hotter  than  steel 
just  out  of  the  fiery  furnace,  sounds  a  note  of  warning  which 
may  be  heard  above  the  ocean's  surf. 

The  Devices  of  Social  Control.  — The  ruling  factors  or  agents 
in  each  of  these  institutions  must  adopt  various  modes  of  influ- 
ence or  power  to  conform  to  the  rule  of  life.  These  devices 
are  so  numerous  and  various  that  it  is  difficult  to  give  a  com- 
plete account  of  them  or  even  to  classify  them. 

Tentatively  the  devices  for  securing  conformity  to  the  ap- 
proved order  may  be  classified  as  educative,  coercive,  and  sup- 
pressive. 

The  Educational  Devices  of  Social  Control.  —  In  order  to 
bring  conduct  into  line  with  the  requirements  of  social  har- 
mony the  leader,  or  those  ambitious  to  become  leaders,  must 
gain  possession  of  the  instruments  of  forming  the  opinions  of 


Harmony  with  the  Present   Order  367 


men.  One  of  the  most  striking  illustrations  of  the  power  of 
influencing  conduct  by  persistent  presentation  of  an  idea  is 
found  in  the  advertising  methods  of  vendors  of  patent  medi- 
cines. The  land  is  deluged  with  notices  in  newspapers,  with 
pamphlets  and  pictures  sent  to  hundreds  of  thousands  of  per- 
sons through  the  post-office,  and  almanacs  are  given  away  by 
the  million.  These  notices  are  served  up  in  sensational  form, 
seasoned  with  wit,  spiced  with  pungent  threats  of  death,  puffed 
with  glowing  promises  of  health,  fortified  by  the  certificates 
of  clergymen  and  lawyers  and  other  persons  whose  opinions 
on  such  subjects  are  not  those  of  experts.  Some  of  these 
medicines  are  good;  some  are  harmless;  others  are  deadly 
poison  and  made  of  cheap  whiskey  and  bitter  weeds;  but  per- 
sistent advertising  produces  widespread  belief  in  their  virtues, 
and  millions  of  dollars  annually  are  spent  upon  them  in  wit- 
ness of  the  sincerity  of  these  beliefs.  Those  who  survive  live 
at  least  long  enough  to  give  their  testimony  and  their  photo- 
graphs, —  and  the  dead  are  silent. 

Processes.  —  Conduct  is  formed  by  influences  directed  to 
secure  habitual  choices.  The  will  is  the  man,  and  oft-repeated 
volitions  in  a  given  direction  shape  the  will.  Thoughts  which 
occupy  consciousness  tend  to  become  exclusive,  and  acts  which 
are  steadily  accompanied  by  pleasure  and  satisfaction  are  most 
apt  to  be  repeated.  Society  can  secure  conformity  to  its 
standards  by  interesting  the  citizen  in  its  ends  and  by  invest- 
ing duty  with  memories  of  enjoyments.  Reluctance  is  over- 
come by  offering  higher  satisfactions  or  more  intense  pleasures. 
Take  for  an  illustration  the  raising  of  money  for  a  great  expo- 
sition or  for  an  emergency  fund  in  time  of  financial  distress. 
People  who  are  already  aroused  head  the  list  with  liberal  sub- 
scriptions, and  others  are  "whipped  into  line  "  by  appeals  and 
threats,  which  are  as  effective  as  bludgeons.  The  air  is  filled 
with  the  project;  the  newspapers  give  space  to  nothing  else; 
unbelievers  are  silenced  by  rebuke  or  sarcasm;  the  stingy  are 
cajoled,  bribed,  flattered,  honored,  according  to  the  demand 
of  the  moment.  Advantages  are  painted  in  vivid  colors,  losses 
are  concealed.  Contagion  takes  charge  of  the  enterprise,  and 
at  last  all  congratulate  themselves  on  the  grand  achievement. 

Other  devices  of  education,   the  school,  the  platform,  the 


368  Social  Elements 


press, —  are  subsidized  or  employed  to  propagate  a  belief. 
Witness  the  introduction  of  temperance  teaching  in  the  public 
schools  of  many  states,  and  instruction  as  to  the  effects  of 
tobacco  and  other  poisonous  substances.  It  is  an  educational 
device  to  secure  social  control,  to  enforce  an  idea. 

The  kings  of  England  sought  to  mould  public  opinion  by 
"tuning  the  pulpit"  in  the  ancient  times  of  union  of  church 
and  state.  The  preacher  is  still,  in  spite  of  newspaper  com- 
petition, one  of  the  educative  agencies  in  the  formation  of  a 
social  policy.  Reformers  have  always  sought  to  set  ministers 
talking,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  upon  their  theme. 

The  Devices  of  Coercioii. — Social  control  is  secured  not 
only  by  instruction  and  persuasion,  that  is,  by  the  production 
of  conviction  and  personal  choice,  but  also  by  devices  which 
constrain  action  even  in  the  absence  of  consent  of  will  and 
judgment.  It  must  be  admitted  that  the  dividing  line  between 
educational  and  coercive  devices  is  not  very  distinctly  marked, 
but  we  can  readily  distinguish  extreme  cases  of  each  kind. 
For  example,  so  long  as  John  Brown  sought  by  speech-making 
to  persuade  the  American  people  to  abolish  slavery  he  was  an 
educator;  but  when  he  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  a  little 
army  and  invaded  a  state  where  slavery  existed  as  by  law  estab- 
lished, he  passed  from  an  educative  to  a  coercive  device.  It 
is  the  difference  between  inviting  an  intruding  boy  to  descend 
from  an  apple  tree  and  throwing  stones  at  him  to  make  his 
position  uncomfortable  and  dangerous.  Coercion  is  of  all 
degrees  of  stress  and  pressure,  and  is  applied  in  all  organiza- 
tions: in  family  and  school  by  bribe  or  censure;  in  the  fac- 
tory by  threat  of  discharge;  in  the  state  by  police  and  prison. 

The  Device  of  Suppression.  — Suppression  is  the  most  sum- 
mary process.  A  head  that  is  full  of  rebellion  must  be  cut  off. 
That  is  "  capital  "  punishment.  In  former  ages  it  was  the  most 
popular  and  reasonable  form  of  correcting  eccentricities  of 
conduct.  It  was  very  fashionable  in  England  not  very  long 
ago.  Fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  went  to  a  hanging  as  we  go 
to  an  exposition.  The  high  roads  were  ornamented  with  the 
dead  bodies  of  persons  who  liked  not  the  golden  mean  of 
regularity.  So-called  witches  confessed  the  sins  of  other  peo- 
ple and  died  for  their  own.     Dissenters  were  fortunate  if  they 


Harmony  with  the  Present  Order  369 

1 

escaped  with  whipping  and  banishment.  Murderers,  thieves, 
traitors,  rich  Jews,  and  dreaming  pilgrims  like  Bunyan  were 
treated  to  similar  diet. 

Our  reasonable  tolerance  and  our  power  of  discrimination 
have  somewhat  improved  in  these  bright  days  of  science  and 
philanthropy,  but  we  are  not  yet  beyond  the  need  of  prisons, 
asylums  for  those  unfit  to  become  parents,  and  other  modes  of 
eliminating  the  waste  products  of  the  civilizing  process.  The 
genius  of  government  is  persistently  seeking  ways  of  extir- 
pating human  weeds,  of  breaking  the  line  of  inheritance  of 
qualities  and  characters  which  disturb  society. 

The  method  of  extirpation  has  narrow  scope.  It  does  not 
produce  order,  but  merely  gets  rid  of  the  most  troublesome 
factors  of  revolt.  The  worst  use  we  can  make  of  a  human 
being  is  to  hang  him,  if  it  is  possible  to  do  anything  else  with 
him.  The  alternatives  of  capital  punishment  and  banishment 
are  control  or  education. 

Order  is  a  Condition  of  Progress,  not  merely  preserving  Past 
Gains. — The  problem  of  a  bicycle  is  twofold,  keeping  the 
balance  and  moving  forward.  The  rider  cannot  do  the  one 
without  doing  the  other  at  the  same  moment.  If  he  does  not 
preserve  his  equilibrium,  he  comes  to  a  full  stop;  if  he  thinks 
to  rest  in  order  to  keep  his  balance,  he  falls.  He  preserves 
his  balance  precisely  because  he  is  moving  forward.  Society 
is  also  a  "moving  equilibrium."  The  ship  of  state  does  not 
respond  to  its  rudder  unless  it  is  sailing.  Momentum  and 
guidance  are  parts  of  one  life  and  cannot  be  separated. 

This  consideration  opens  the  theme  of  our  closing  chapter, 
as  that  is  intended  to  reveal  an  endless  vista  of  possible  achieve- 
ments, a  boundless  horizon  whose  margin  fades  forever  as  we 
move. 

2  B 


S 


CHAPTER    XVII 

Social  Progress 

*'  He  who  thinks  we  are  to  pitch  our  tent  here,  and  have  attained  the 
utmost  prospect  of  reformation,  that  the  mortal  glass  wherein  we  con- 
template can  show  us,  till  we  come  to  beatific  vision;  that  man  by  this 
very  opinion  declares,  that  he  is  yet  far  short  of  truth.  The  light  which 
we  have  gained,  was  given  us,  not  to  be  ever  staring  on,  but  by  it  to  dis- 
cover onward  things  more  remote  from  our  knowledge."  —  Milton. 

"  '  Have  patience,'  I  replied ;   '  ourselves  are  full 
Of  social  wrong,  and  maybe  wildest  dreams 
Are  but  the  needful  preludes  of  the  truth: 
For  me,  the  genial  day,  the  happy  crowd, 
The  sport  half-science  fill  me  with  a  faith, 
This  fine  old  world  of  ours  is  but  a  child 
Yet  in  the  go-cart.     Patience  !    Give  it  time 
To  learn  its  limbs;   there  is  a  hand  that  guides.'  " 

—  Tennyson,  The  Princess. 

"  His  soul  is  still  engaged  upon  this  world  — 
Man's  praise  can  forward  it,  man's  prayer  suspend, 
For  is  not  God  all-mighty?"  —  R.  Browning. 

"  The  life  of  a  soul  is  sacred  in  every  stage  of  its  existence,  as  sacred  in 
the  earthly  stage  as  in  those  which  are  to  follow.  Each  stage  must  be 
made  a  preparation  for  the  next;  every  temporary  advance  must  aid  the 
gradual  ascending  progress  of  that  immortal  life  breathed  into  us  all  by 
God  Himself,  as  well  as  the  progress  of  the  great  Entity — Humanity  — 
which  is  developed  through  the  labor  of  each  and  every  individual. 

"  God  has  placed  you  here  upon  this  earth.  He  has  surrounded  you 
with  myriads  of  fellow-beings  whose  minds  receive  aliment  from  your  own, 
whose  life  is  fecundated  by  your  own.  In  order  to  preserve  you  from  the 
dangers  of  isolation,  He  has  given  you  desires  which  you  are  incapable  of 
satisfying  alone,  and  those  dominating  social  instincts  which  distinguish 
you  from  the  brute  creation,  in  which  they  arc  dormant.  He  has  spread 
around  you  a  material  woild,  magnificent  in  beauty  and  pregnant  with 
life;  a  life  —  be  it  ever  remembered  —  which,  though  it  reveal  itself  by 
divine  impulse,  yet  everywhere  awaits  your  labor,  and  modifies  its  mani- 

37° 


Social  Progress  371 


Testations  through  you,  increasing  in  power  and  vigor  in  proportion  to 
your  increased  activity. 

"God  has  given  you  certain  sympathies  which  are  inextinguishable. 
Such  arc  pity  for  those  that  mourn,  and  joy  for  those  that  rejoice;  anger 
against  those  who  oppress  their  fellow-creatures;  a  ceaseless  yearning 
after  truth;  admiration  for  the  genius;  enthusiasm  for  those  who  reduce 
it  to  beneficial  action  upon  mankind;  and  religious  veneration  for  those, 
who,  tailing  to  achieve  its  triumph,  yet  hear  witness  to  it  with  their  blood, 
and  die  in  martyrdom  :  and  you  deny  and  reject  all  the  indications  of  your 
mission  which  Clod  has  thus  clustered  around  you,  when  you  cry  anathema 
on  the  work  of  His  hand,  and  call  upon  us  to  concentrate  all  our  faculties 
on  a  work  of  mere  inward  purification,  necessarily  imperfect,  nay  impos- 
sible, if  sought  alone. 

"Does  not  Clod  punish  those  who  strive  to  do  this?  Is  not  the  slave 
degraded?  Is  not  one-half  of  the  soul  of  the  poor  day-laborer  (doomed  to 
consume  the  light  divine  in  a  series  of  physical  acts  unrelieved  by  a  gleam 
of  education)  buried  beneath  its  animal  appetites,  in  those  blind  instincts 
which  you  name  material? 

"  '  Where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  Liberty,'  has  been  declared 
by  one  of  the  most  powerful  apostles  the  world  has  known,  and  the  religion 
he  preached  decreed  the  abolition  of  slaveiy.  Who  that  crouches  at  the 
foot  of  the  creature  can  rightly  know  and  worship  the  Creator?  Yours  is 
not  a  Religion.  It  is  a  sect  of  men  who  have  forgotten  their  origin,  for- 
gotten the  battles  which  their  fathers  fought  against  a  corrupt  society  and 
the  victories  they  gained  in  transforming  the  world  which  you  despise, 
O  men  of  contemplation  ! 

"  The  first  real,  earnest  religious  Faith  that  shall  arise  upon  the  ruins 
of  the  old  worn-out  creeds  will  transform  the  whole  of  our  actual  social 
organization,  because  every  strong  and  earnest  faith  tends  to  apply  itself  to 
every  branch  of  human  activity;  because  in  every  epoch  of  its  existence 
the  Earth  has  ever  tended  to  conform  itself  to  the  Heaven  in  which  it 
then  believed,  and  because  the  whole  history  of  Humanity  is  but  the  repe- 
tition —  in  form  and  degree  varying  according  to  the  diversity  of  the  times 

—  of  the  words  of  the  Dominical  Christian  Prayer :  '  Thy  Kingdom  come, 
on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.' 

"  '  Thy  Kingdom  come,  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.'     Let  these  words 

—  better  understood  and  better  applied  than  in  the  past  —  be  the  utter- 
ance of  your  faith,  your  prayer,  O  my  brothers  !  Repeat  them,  and  strive 
to  fulfil  them. 

"  Workingmen  !  Brothers !  When  Christ  came,  and  changed  the  face 
of  the  world,  he  spoke  not  of  rights  to  the  rich,  who  needed  not  to  achieve 
them;  nor  to  the  poor,  who  would  doubtless  have  abused  them  in  imita- 
tion of  the  rich;  he  spoke  not  of  utility  nor  of  interest  to  a  people  whom 
interest  and  utility  had  corrupted;  he  spoke  of  Duty,  he  spoke  of  Love, 
of  Sacrifice,  and  of  Laith;  and  he  said  that  they  should  be  first  among  all 
who  had  contributed  most  of  their  labor  to  the  good  of  all. 

"  And  the  words  of  Christ,  breathed  in  the  ear  of  a  society  in  which  all 


372  Social  Elements 


true  life  was  extinct,  recalled  it  to  existence,  conquered  the  millions,  con- 
quered the  world,  and  caused  the  education  of  the  human  race  to  ascend 
one  degree  on  the  scale  of  progress. 

"  Workingmen  !  We  live  in  an  epoch  similar  to  that  of  Christ.  We 
live  in  the  midst  of  a  society  as  corrupt  as  that  of  the  Roman  Empire, 
feeling  in  our  inmost  soul  the  need  of  reanimating  and  transforming  it,  and 
of  uniting  all  its  various  members  in  one  sole  faith,  beneath  one  sole  law, 
in  one  sole  aim,  —  free  and  progressive  development  of  all  the  faculties 
of  which  God  has  given  the  germ  to  His  creatures.  We  seek  the  Kingdom 
of  God  on  earth  as  it  is  in  Heaven,  or  rather,  that  earth  may  become 
a  preparation  for  Heaven,  and  society  an  endeavor  after  the  progressive 
realization  of  the  Divine  Idea."  —  Mazzini,  Duties  of  Man. 

I.  Definition.  — The  conception  of  progress  is  too  large  and 
complex  to  shut  up  in  a  little  formula  of  words.  Yet  we  may  give 
it  abstract  expression,  and  proceed  to  make  the  contents  more 
real  to  ourselves  by  particular  details.  In  its  negative  form, 
progress  implies  a  relative  decrease  of  the  number  of  defective 
human  beings,  and  a  diminution  of  misery.  Always  our  eye 
must  be  kept  on  the  rational  and  sentient  beings  who  consti- 
tute our  kind.  The  lower  animals,  since  they  are  related  to  us 
by  many  bonds,  and  are  capable  of  pain  and  pleasure,  cannot 
be  excluded  from  consideration.  Their  suffering  and  enjoy- 
ment enter  into  the  consciousness  and  the  duty  of  mankind. 
Human  persons  are  capable  of  suffering  and  happiness,  of 
goodness  and  crime.  Progress  would  mean  nothing  to  us,  or 
mean  something  bad  and  discouraging,  if  it  implied  increase,  of 
the  vile,  the  debased,  the  miserable. 

In  its  positive  form,  we  mean  by  progress  increase  of  well- 
being  in  all  its  elements,  and  over  the  widest  possible  area. 
All  life  becomes  full  of  significance  to  us,  not  as  we  read  about 
it,  but  as  we  dip  into  it,  as  we  live.  No  man  standing  on  the 
shore  can  know  the  joy  of  the  strong  swimmers  buffeting  the 
waves  with  laughter,  and  exulting  in  the  invigorating  sea-water. 
We  realize  the  meaning  of  progress  in  general,  only  as  we  are 
ourselves  advancing  from  day  to  day,  as  we  can  look  back  at 
our  own  inferior  past,  and  think  of  increase  of  power,  intelli- 
gence, enjoyment,  and  feel  ourselves  related  to  a  wider  range  of 
objects  in  nature,  and  of  persons  in  society. 

Any  definition  of  progress  must  bring  us  face  to  face  with  the 
ancient  question  of  all  thoughtful  minds :  what  is  good  ?  what 


Social  Progress  373 


is  worth  striving  to  gain  ?  what  is  the  end  of  action  and  struggle  ? 
The  good  we  seek  as  the  end  of  Order,  is  the  good  we  seek  as 
the  end  of  Progress ;  for  in  all  we  do,  human  welfare  is  the 
purpose  of  all  conduct. 

If  anything  is  good,  life  is  good.  To  be  sure,  many  people, 
who  can  hardly  be  called  insane,  declare  that  life  is  not  a  good, 
but  evil.  It  is  difficult  to  get  common  ground  for  argument 
with  those  who  are  sick  of  the  world.  But  we  have  a  right  to 
judge  of  beliefs  by  facts  which  test  their  genuineness.  Suicides 
are  not  yet  so  numerous  as  large  families.  Population  grows 
even  in  countries  where  the  creed  seems  to  make  annihilation 
equivalent  to  heaven.  The  pessimists  on  principle  are  always 
illogical,  or  they  would  take  poison  and  remove  their  murmurs 
from  the  hearing  of  healthy  men.  If  we  can  judge  faith  by 
works,  the  vast  majority  of  men  have  voted  life  to  be  a  good, 
for  any  of  them  could  quit  it,  at  any  moment,  by  opening  any 
one  of  a  hundred  doors.  We  must  start  somewhere,  and  we 
may  assume  the  value  of  life.  Illogical  pessimists  should  be 
left  out  of  a  logical  argument,  and  the  logical  pessimists  are  all 
dead. 

Life  is  a  good.  Then  all  that  furthers  and  fosters  life  is 
good  :  sound  physical  conditions,  vigor,  power,  strong  limbs, 
and  organs  of  digestion  which  do  their  duty  without  attracting 
too  much  notice.  In  heroic  moments  and  exceptional  circum- 
stances, it  is  "sweet  and  beautiful  to  die  for  one's  country," 
but  in  ordinary  conditions  it  is  both  more  difficult  and  more 
useful  to  live  for  fatherland,  and  plough  deep.  But  that  is  just 
because  the  life  of  the  fatherland  is,  on  the  whole,  both  beautiful 
and  sweet. 

As  there  is  controversy  over  the  meaning  of  the  word  we  are 
using,  we  may  begin  where  all  competent  persons  will  at  once 
agree  :  progress  means  increase  of  power  over  things  and  over 
men.  Is  there  any  question  that  European  peoples  have  ad- 
vanced beyond  the  hordes  of  African  forests  or  the  miserable 
natives  of  Australia?  Brought  to  the  test  of  power,  we  see  the 
inferior  races  disappear  before  the  arms  and  the  strategy  of 
the  educated  invaders  or  bow  to  serve  them.  The  Australian 
may  excel  the  Englishman  in  throwing  a  boomerang,  but  that 
art  is  useless  to  a  man  who  knows  the  rifle. 


374  Social  Elements  \ 

The  civilized  races  have  more  numerous  and  plentiful  means 
of  happiness.  There  is  no  comparison  in  this  respect  between 
the  nations  we  call  advanced  or  enlightened  and  the  backward 
peoples.  Illustrations  by  the  thousand  could  be  offered  in 
every  department  of  life.  Prof.  S.  N.  Patten  tells  us  we  are 
passing  from  a  "pain  economy"  to  a  "pleasure  economy. " 
In  former  ages  inferior  races  spent  life  in  turning  from  pain; 
we  spend  life  adding  to  pleasure. 

But  all  this  involves  a  progress  in  inner  and  spiritual  quali- 
ties, without  which  superior  power  over  nature  and  inferior 
men  could  not  exist.  The  civilized  races  control  natural  forces 
and  compel  them  to  serve  because  they  have  improved  in 
intelligence,  in  actual  knowledge,  in  methods  of  communicat- 
ing knowledge  and  skill  to  their  children,  and  in  preserving 
the  discoveries  of  progressive  minds  and  making  them  avail- 
able for  all. 

This  increase  of  intelligence  implies  larger  social  coopera- 
tion over  wider  areas.  In  the  lower,  and  earlier  races  of  man- 
kind, each  member  of  the  small  group  could  use  only  the 
discoveries  of  his  neighbors,  low  in  the  scale  of  intelligence 
like  himself,  while  the  poorest  laborer  in  civilized  lands  daily 
employs  devices  and  methods  which  have  been  picked  out  of 
the  best  patents  of  the  civilized  world. 

The  mechanic  at  his  lathe  is  an  heir  of  past  ages  and  a 
partner  of  millions  who  are  engaged  in  similar  employments. 
A  man  may  not  know  all  the  arts  and  sciences,  but  any  compe- 
tent man  can,  by  diligence,  find  out  any  one  fact  or  device 
which  is  in  his  day  anywhere  known  in  Europe  or  America. 
Instead  of  the  cooperation  of  a  narrow  and  restricted  horde 
each  man  is  in  correspondence  with  millions  of  vigorous  and 
progressive  men.  A  modern  nation  is  an  example  of  social 
cooperation  on  a  scale  vast  and  impressive,  and  each  citizen 
is  strong  with  the  might  of  all  the  multitudes  who  live  under 
the  same  flag. 

But  this  cooperation  could  not  exist  without  progress  in 
sympathy,  larger  and  finer  morality.  The  rise  of  international 
commerce  compels  the  growth  of  international  morality  and 
law,  a  recognition  of  the  practical  solidarity  of  mankind,  a  sur- 
render, slowly  but  surely,  of  the  merely  national  morality  of 


Social  Progress  375 


former  ages.  The  ideal  of  a  moral  law  for  mankind  is  far 
from  being  realized  in  diplomacy  and  conduct,  but  it  is  work- 
ing to  leaven  the  world's  life,  and  usher  in  the  age  when 

"Man  to  man  shall  brothers  be,  o'er  all  the  world." 

A  finer,  broader  morality  goes  with  a  philanthropic  religion, 
a  "fortifying"  faith.  Progress  of  the  lower  kind  is  helped  by 
this  higher  factor,  and  reacts  to  increase  its  sway.  As  Profes- 
sor Giddings  says  :  "  Christianity  became  the  most  tremendous 
power  in  history.  Gradually  it  has  been  realizing  its  ideal, 
until,  to-day,  a  Christian  philanthropy  and  a  Christian  mission- 
ary enterprise,  rapidly  outgrowing  the  esoteric  sentimentalism 
of  their  youth,  and  devoting  themselves  to  the  diffusion  of 
knowledge,  to  the  improvement  of  conditions,  and  to  the  up- 
building of  character,  are  uniting  the  classes  and  the  races  of 
men  in  a  spiritual  humanity." 

Progress,  in  the  strictest  sense,  does  not  mean  the  mere  multi- 
plication of  goods  and  processes  already  known,  but  new  devices, 
new  qualities,  discoveries,  combinations,  revelations  of  insight. 

It  is  very  desirable,  for  example,  when  a  sewing-machine  is 
invented,  that  it  should  be  manufactured,  cheapened  in  price, 
placed  in  the  homes  of  the  people.  But  the  invention  is  the 
new  starting-point ;  all  the  rest  is  mere  copying  and  transpor- 
tation. The  invention  of  the  linotype  has  revolutionized  the 
business  of  printing  within  a  few  years ;  but  the  transition  was 
determined  as  by  a  destiny  from  the  hour  when  the  novel  idea 
of  the  machine  was  born  in  the  mind  of  the  inventor.  There- 
after merely  mechanical  minds  could  communicate  and  vul- 
garize the  process.  In  commercial  enterprise,  as  in  the 
consolidation  of  railroads  into  a  system  or  the  laying  of  the 
first  cable,  the  first  successful  application  of  the  principle 
requires  genius ;  the  details  can  be  administered  and  the  plan 
developed  by  less  gifted  men. 

II.  Causes  of  Progress.  —  We  cannot  think  of  curses  or 
blessings  as  coming  causeless  into  being.  As  every  event  and 
fact  is  in  time  and  space,  so  every  event  has  a  cause,  even  if 
we  cannot  at  once  find  it.  Social  progress  is  a  fact  observed, 
and  the  human  mind  is  impelled  by  its  very  nature  to  seek 
explanation. 


376  Social  Elements 


First  we  may  look  for  the  causes  of  progress  in  the  whole 
vast  movement  of  the  universe  about  us,  the  movement  which 
has  written  its  history  in  the  fossils  of  the  rocks  which  geology 
is  reading  off.  Nature-history  offers  revelations  of  advance 
from  inorganic  to  organic,  from  matter  without  feeling  to  hum- 
ble creatures  sensitive  to  heat  and  light  and  touch,  and  from 
these  upward  by  slow  degrees  to  man  with  his  material  body 
and  his  spiritual  powers  of  sensation,  thought,  reasoning,  and 
worship. 

Up  to  the  appearance  of  man  upon  the  earth,  the  movement 
from  lower  to  higher  forms  of  life  was  due  to  causes  indepen- 
dent of  plans  of  the  participants.  "  Natural  selection,"  the 
result  of  struggle,  steadily  chose  higher  and  more  complex 
types.  Even  in  the  history  of  mankind  our  race  has  been 
brought  forward  by  similar  means,  without  the  foresight  or 
intention  of  human  beings. 

The  directly  human  causes  of  progress  are  more  clearly 
seen.  To  understand  the  causes  of  progress  in  general,  we 
may  well  begin  with  facts  under  our  eyes.  The  family  and  the 
schoolroom  are  themselves  miniature  worlds,  and  the  pro- 
cesses there  enacted  are  suggestions  of  universal  principles. 
How  does  the  family,  how  does  the  school,  advance  life  ?  An- 
swer that,  and  you  have  a  hint  of  the  great,  wide  world  and  its 
way  upward.  In  home  and  school,  in  bank  and  shop,  in  field 
and  factory,  the  cause  of  progress  lies  first  of  all  in  inventions. 
Some  one  finds  a  better  way  of  doing  things  than  was  known 
before.  No  matter  just  now  where  or  how  this  inventor  came 
by  his  improved  method  :  he  has  it.  The  man  who  does  a 
thing  better  than  we  have  been  doing,  stands  at  the  head  of  his 
line  as  truly  as  did  Adam.  The  invention  may  be  a  mere  trifle, 
but  if  it  is  new  it  becomes  a  creative  force  for  mankind.  In 
the  United  States  there  are  inventors  in  all  parts  of  the  country. 
Read  the  lists  of  patents  granted  at  Washington  for  all  sorts 
of  machines  and  processes.  A  new  one  is  announced  almost 
daily  in  the  newspapers.  These  inventions  are  found  in  every 
sphere  of  human  interests,  in  houses,  furniture,  tools,  machines, 
and  every  appliance  of  comfort  and  learning.  The  list  of 
copyrighted  books  and  pamphlets  shows  invention  in  another 
realm.     Of  course  not  all  copyrighted  matter  is  original  and 


Social  Progress  377 


new.  But  here  and  there,  even  in  dull  books  and  compilations 
of  old  matter,  a  bright  and  fresh  discovery  may  he  found. 
Humble  men  and  women  may  in  hours  of  special  inspiration 
litter  words  which  men  of  genius  themselves  will  appropriate. 
Some  of  the  proverbs  of  Solomon  and  Jesus  were  started  by 
unknown  men.  George  Eliot  has  woven  into  her  great  novels 
many  a  saying  which  she  caught  from  persons  in  narrow  condi- 
tions ;  and  she  has  not  grudged  to  give  humble  folk  credit  for 
the  wit  which  graces  her  pages.  Most  people  are  dull  and 
imitative  most  of  their  lives,  but  one  who  mingles  freely  with 
Irish  laborers  will  pick  up  witty  and  suggestive  phrases  which 
would  make  a  page  of  Shakespeare  sparkle,  and  give  lustre  to 
a  volume  of  Thackeray.  The  folk-lore  which  has  made  the 
name  of  Grimm  famous  was  gathered  in  the  cottages  of  peas- 
ants whose  traditions  had  preserved  the  inventions  of  forgotten 
generations. 

Social  progress  is  not  the  result  of  mere  blind,  brute  matters 
of  fact,  pushing  upward  and  outward  like  frost  or  sap  ;  but  it  is 
also  and  now  chiefly  the  result  of  imitation  of  ideals,  concep- 
tions of  a  good  yet  unrealized  but  practicable.  We  are  not 
to  think  of  progress  as  the  mere  effect  of  climate,  food,  dress, 
but  also  of  ideals  of  what  we  ought  to  be  and  do.  These 
beliefs,  warm  with  desire,  are  real  social  causes  of  advance. 

"  If  there  is  to  be  a  competition  for  scientific  recognition,  the  world 
without  us  must  yield  to  the  undoubted  existence  of  the  spirit  within  us. 
Our  own  hopes  and  wishes  and  determinations  are  the  most  undoubted 
phenomena  within  the  sphere  of  consciousness.  If  men  do,  act,  feel,  and 
live  as  if  they  were  not  merely  the  brief  products  of  a  casual  conjunction  of 
atoms,  but  the  instruments  of  a  far-reaching  purpose,  are  we  to  record  all 
other  phenomena  and  pass  over  these?  We  investigate  the  instincts  of  the 
ant  and  the  bee  and  the  beaver,  and  discover  that  they  are  led  by  an  in- 
scrutable agency  to  work  towards  a  distant  purpose.  Let  us  be  faithful  to 
our  scientific  method,  and  investigate  also  those  instincts  of  the  human 
mind,  by  which  man  is  led  to  work  as  if  the  approval  of  a  Higher  Being 
were  the  aim  of  life."1 

That  nation  is  most  favored  and  advances  with  most  rapid 
strides  which  has  the  largest  number  of  persons  of  genius, 
whose  varied  gifts  enrich  life  in  all  directions.2     There   is  a 

1  W.  S.  Jevons,  The  Principles  of  Science,  Vol.  II,  p.  470. 
.2  W.  H.  Mallock,  Aristocracy  and  Evolution. 


378  Social  Elements 


legitimate  place  for  hero-worship.  "  Arnold  Toynbee  once 
asserted  that  changes  can  be  accomplished  only  by  two  things : 
first,  an  ideal  which  arouses  interest  and  kindles  the  imagina- 
tion, and,  second,  a  definite,  intelligent  plan  for  carrying  that 
ideal  out  into  practice."  This  ideal  must  first  be  formed,  this 
plan  must  be  laid  by  a  superior  person.  When  such  a  leader 
appears,  then  — 

"A  better  day's  begun  — 
And  soon  this  leader,  teacher,  will  stand  plain, 
And  build  the  gulden  pipes  and  synthesize 
This  people-organ  for  a  holier  strain." 

The  spheres  of  invention  are  as  numerous  as  the  forms  of 
genius  and  the  wants  of  mankind.  In  the  advancement  of 
science  we  have  examples  in  Newton,  Darwin,  Galileo ;  in  fine 
arts,  Angelo,  Raphael,  Titian ;  in  philosophy,  Kant,  Leibnitz, 
Hegel ;  in  poetic  insight,  Goethe,  Shakespeare ;  in  statecraft, 
Cromwell,  Gladstone  ;  in  commercial  enterprise  and  organiza- 
tion of  trade  and  industry,  those  men  of  genius  who  have  pro- 
duced a  system  which  has  carried  forward  modern  nations 
more  rapidly  than  any  others  the  world  has  known  ;  in  religion, 
Moses,  prophets,  sages  of  the  Orient,  and  One  whose  name 
cannot  be  classed  on  a  level  with  theirs. 

"  In  strictness,  the  vital  refinements  are  the  moral  and  intellectual  steps. 
The  appearance  of  the  Hebrew  Moses,  of  the  Indian  Buddh,  —  in  Greece, 
of  the  Seven  Wise  Masters,  of  the  acute  and  upright  Socrates,  and  of  the 
Stoic  Zeno,  —  in  Judea,  the  advent  of  Jesus,  —  and  in  modern  Christen- 
dom, of  the  realists  Huss,  Savonarola,  and  Luther,  are  causal  facts  which 
carry  forward  races  to  new  convictions,  and  elevate  the  rule  of  life.  In  the 
presence  of  these  agencies,  it  is  frivolous  to  insist  on  the  invention  of 
printing  or  gunpowder  or  gas-light,  percussion  caps  and  rubber  shoes, 
which  are  toys  thrown  off  from  that  security,  freedom,  and  exhilaration 
which  a  healthy  morality  creates  in  society.  These  arts  add  a  comfort  and 
smoothness  to  house  and  street  life;  but  a  purer  morality,  which  kindles 
genius,  civilizes  civilization,  casts  backward  all  that  we  hold  sacred  in  the 
profane,  as  the  flame  of  oil  throws  a  shadow  when  shined  upon  by  the 
ilame  of  the  Bude-Light.  Not  the  less  the  popular  measures  of  progress 
will  ever  be  the  arts  and  the  laws."  —  Emerson. 

The  time  seems  to  be  rapidly  approaching  when  great  socie- 
ties will  consciously  cooperate  to  bring  forth  inventions  in  all 


Social  Progress  379 


spheres  of  discovery  and  desire.  Society  is  beginning  to  build 
up  its  own  system  of  education,  and  does  not  wait  for  the 
initiative  of  a  few  and  the  slow  processes  of  competition  to 
give  the  blessings  of  culture  to  the  poorest  of  her  children. 
Society  is  moving  forward  in  all  modern  countries  to  direct 
industrial  and  commercial  enterprises  in  such  a  way  that  the 
weak  shall  not  be  crushed  by  the  strong,  and  the  ignorant  citi- 
zen outwitted  by  the  few  who  are  in  position  of  advantage. 
This  process  is  certain  to  go  much  further  as  the  social  con- 
sciousness widens  and  becomes  more  intelligent.  But  while 
the  world  stands,  the  actual  inventions  and  discoveries  will  not 
be  made  by  the  mass,  but  by  the  few.  It  is  inconceivable  that 
a  people  numbering  seventy  millions  or  a  hundred  millions  can 
ever  set  itself  to  the  task  of  improving  a  microscope,  a  tele- 
phone, or  to  create  a  new  epic  poem.  Such  deeds  must  always 
come  from  single  minds,  although  these  will  borrow  materials 
from  their  age  and  from  all  the  past.  A  man  of  genius  is 
himself  a  social  product,  and  ought  to  pay  his  ancestors  for 
their  gifts  to  him  by  bestowing  something  valuable  on  posterity. 
But  a  community  advances  by  selecting  specialists  and  then 
taking  possession  of  their  works  and  diffusing  them.  The  debt 
and  the  service  are  reciprocal,  and  the  highest  soul  owes  the 
largest  duties  to  mankind  and  becomes  great  only  as  he 
imparts  and  communicates.  The  isolated  genius  is  nothing,  — 
a  bell  in  an  exhausted  receiver. 

"  God's  light  organized 
In  some  high  soul,  crowned  capable  to  lead 
The  conscious  people,  —  conscious  and  advised, — 
For  if  we  lift  a  people  like  mere  clay, 
It  falls  the  same." 

Prese?Tation  of  Useful  Invejitions.  —  The  imagination  of 
vigorous  minds  is  full  of  fancies,  swarms  and  teems  with  sug- 
gestions and  compositions  according  to  the  previous  education 
and  experience  of  the  favored  son  of  nature.  Some  of  these 
trooping  ideas  are  mere  vagaries,  some  of  them  frivolous  quips 
and  cranks,  some  of  them  flashes  of  light  which  illumine  the 
path  of  science,  or  art,  or  philosophy,  for  a  hundred  years  in 
advance.     The  new  device,  the  poem,  the  burst  of  eloquence 


380  Social  Elements 


in  moments  of  impassioned  speech,  the  draft  of  a  law,  the 
working  hypothesis  of  a  biologist,  the  theory  of  the  mathema- 
tician to  account  for  perturbations  in  the  course  of  a  comet  or 
planet,  are  subjected  at  once  to  the  test  of  experiment  more 
or  less  scientific.  Just  as  the  tree  blossoms  with  millions  of 
flowers,  only  a  part  of  which  comes  to  fruit,  while  all  the  rest 
are  frost-bitten  or  shaken  off  by  winds,  so  the  guesses  of  great 
minds  are  sifted  and  tried  in  the  stern  experiences  of  life. 
Only  that  which  fits  the  situation  can  endure  this  test.  All 
that  is  false,  mere  seeming,  plausible,  must  sometime  be  found 
weak  and  unworthy  by  the  inventor  himself  or  by  his  critics. 
Ideas  struggle  for  place  in  controversy  and  in  practical  life, 
just  as  ancient  beasts  and  savage  men  fought  for  place  and 
food,  the  strongest  surviving.  Thoughts,  devices,  new  ideas, 
come  into  the  fierce  conflicts  of  competition.  The  temper 
of  the  edge  is  tested  on  real  life. 

Illustrations  may  be  found  by  comparing  the  models  of 
machines  in  the  patent  office  with  those  which  have  been 
found  practicable.  Most  have  failed  at  some  points,  —  have 
been  too  costly,  or  have  broken  down  when  put  to  strain 
required  in  actual  shop-work.  In  all  large  libraries  may  be 
found  books  which  are  never  read,  and  which  are  buried  in 
dust,  never  to  be  resurrected.  They  did  not  fit.  Some  quality 
was  lacking.  But  Homer  lives  in  his  poems.  Milton  com- 
posed lines  which  the  world  cannot  permit  to  die.  Shake- 
speare sings  for  all  thoughtful  people.  The  odes  of  Horace 
are  a  monument  more  enduring  than  bronze.  Time,  which 
weighs  all  things,  decides  what  shall  remain,  and  drowns  in 
her  flood  all  that  is  weak,  vain,  false,  unfit,  useless  for  some 
human  end. 

III.  Propagation  of  Inventions.  —  The  familiar  story  of 
Columbus  brings  vividly  before  us  the  thought  that  common 
men  can  easily  do  a  thing  over,  which  only  a  man  of  genius 
could  do  the  first  time.  Men  who  had  mocked  at  the  possi- 
bility of  crossing  the  ocean  and  finding  a  new  continent  thought 
it  an  easy  task  after  it  had  been  done,  and  their  stupidity  was 
rebuked  by  the  dramatic  lesson  of  making  an  egg  stand  on 
end.  When  the  ship  has  been  built  and  launched,  then  imita- 
tion takes  charge  of  its  voyage  around  the  world.     There  are 


Social  Progress  381 


great  centres  of  thought,  from  which,  as  from  a  sun,  rays  of 
light  move  out  in  illuminated  circles  to  the  farthest  parts  of 
the  earth. 

This  method  may  be  witnessed  in  operation  in  family,  school, 
and  factory,  in  the  daily  process  of  learning.  The  teacher  is 
always  setting  a  copy.  The  pupil  is  always  watching,  studying 
tone,  gesture,  accent,  writing,  and  inmost  temper  and  disposi- 
tion. The  picture,  word,  or  thought  is  turned  over  in  the 
child's  apprentice  mind,  and,  perhaps  with  other  elements 
mixed  in,  finds  expression  in  an  act  of  the  learner. 

The  renowned  painter  gives  the  world  a  splendid  picture, 
and  soon  Europe  and  America  are  flooded  with  photographic 
and  sun-type  copies  of  it  in  the  illustrated  magazines. 

"  Read  my  little  fable; 
lie  tTTJrfc  runs  may  read. 
Most  can  raise  the  flowers  now, 
For  all  have  got  the  seed." 

There  are  three  orders  of  force,  —  physical,  vital,  and  social, 
—  including  in  the  last  all  intellectual  and  moral  activities. 
M.  Tarde  thus  summarizes  the  mode  of  action  peculiar  to 
these  different  ranks  of  forces.  Physical  energy  moves  outward 
from  the  centre  in  connected  waves,  as  light,  heat,  and  elec- 
tricity. Vital  forces  are  communicated  by  generation,  as  the 
inheritance  of  qualities,  the  spread  of  epidemics.  Social  forces 
move  from  their  centres  by  imitation,  and  actual  contact  is  not 
necessary  if  the  process  is  served  by  literary  symbols,  as  books, 
letters,  pictures.  Social  forces  act  almost  instantly  between 
Liverpool  and  Pekin,  while  heredity  acts  slowly  and  by  long 
intervals. 

Ideals  incarnate  in  the  best  men  tend  to  become  general. 
"  Far  off  as  seems  such  a  state,  yet  every  one  of  the  factors 
counted  on  to  produce  it  may  already  be  traced  in  operation 
among  those  of  highest  natures.  What  now  in  them  is  occa- 
sional and  feeble  may  be  expected  with  further  evolution  to 
become  habitual  and  strong,  and  what  now  characterizes  the 
exceptionally  high  may  be  expected,  eventually,  to  characterize 
all.  For  that  which  the  highest  human  nature  is  capable  of  is 
within  the  reach  of  human  nature  at  large"  (H.  Spencer). 


382  Social  Elements 


IV.  Laws  of  Progress.  —  Throughout  the  known  world  all 
things  move  according  to  some  method.  Our  hope  of  con- 
structing a  science  rests  on  belief  in  an  order  which  runs  through 
all  acts  and  events.  By  "  law,"  in  this  connection,  we  do  not 
mean  the  command  of  some  legislature  or  emperor,  nor  any 
ethical  requirement  confirmed  by  the  conscience,  but  solely  an 
observed  order  or  method.  Can  we  yet  discover  any  hints  of 
orderly  movement  in  the  facts  of  social  progress  ? 

Probably  the  world  must  wait  many  a  year  before  all  the 
uniformities  of  society  and  its  life  can  be  formulated ;  and 
multitudes  of  students  must  contribute  to  this  task.  At  present 
we  must  cheer'  our  quest  by  partially  successful  attempts  at 
formulating,  in  very  general  terms,  some  of  the  more  obvious 
instances  of  uniformity. 

We  may  first  give  the  law  of  evolution  as  stated  by  Mr. 
Spencer  :  "  Evolution  is  an  integration  of  matter  and  concom- 
itant dissipation  of  motion ;  during  which  the  matter  passes 
from  an  indefinite,  incoherent  homogeneity  to  a  definite  co- 
herent heterogeneity ;  and  during  which  the  retained  motion 
undergoes  a  parallel  transformation."  (First Principles,  §  145.) 
This  sentence  is  for  most  persons  a  "  hard  nut  to  crack." 

We  are  still  a  long  way  from  being  able  to  formulate  laws  of 
social  progress  which  will  be  at  once  comprehensive  and  yet 
serve  to  express  clearly  and  intelligibly  the  essential  nature  of 
the  process.  The  statement  of  evolution  made  by  Mr.  Spencer 
is  and  was  designed  to  be  an  expression  of  the  most  general 
principles,  applicable  not  only  to  society  but  to  the  physical 
universe.  The  law  which  applies  to  a  spiritual  organization 
must  contain  distinctively  spiritual  elements,  but  must  not 
ignore  the  presence  of  the  matter-of-fact  world. 

Evolution  includes  not  only  progress  but  degeneration,  —  all 
the  phenomena  of  our  existence,  —  while  progress  is  our  present 
study.  We  are  now  asking  :  What  are  the  laws  of  evolution  so 
far  as  social  human  progress  can  be  discerned  ? 

Among  the  apparently  well-ascertained  lines  of  uniformity 
we  may  indicate  this  one  :  There  is  an  ascending  order  of  ends 
of  social  choices. 

"  This  dominant  law  do  we  not  detect  in  that  conscious  scale 
of  worth  and  authority  on  which  our  springs  of  action  dispose 


Social  Progress  383 


themselves?  There  are  four  types  of  human  life,  well  marked 
in  the  course  of  its  personal  or  social  ascent,  viz.  (1)  that  of 
instinctive  appetite  and  passion,  in  which  there  is  the  least 
remove  from  the  condition  of  other  animals;  (2)  that  of  self- 
conscious  pursuit  of  personal  or  social  ends,  involving  the  first 
exercise  of  will;  (3)  that  of  conscience,  in  which  these  ends 
are  taken,  not  as  we  like,  but  as  we  ought ;  (4)  that  of  Faith, 
in  which  the  conflict  is  transcended  between  what  we  like  and 
what  we  ought,  and  duty  becomes  Divine."1 

This  ascending  scale  of  ends  may  be  seen  in  the  history  of 
peoples  as  well  as  in  the  biography  of  individuals.  The  mer- 
cantile conquests  of  the  Phoenicians  superseded  lower  barbaric 
tastes  and  customs ;  the  Roman  self-restraint  and  respect  for 
the  ideal  of  law  subdued  the  lower  force ;  Greek  culture,  even 
when  it  issued  from  a  conquered  land,  took  possession  of  the 
conquerors  ;  and  Christianity  overcame  both  Greek  and  Roman 
because  it  appealed  to  deeper  elements  and  offered  a  higher 
good.  The  ages  give  the  field  to  the  best,  not  to  mere  physical 
might.  Mighty  mastodons  are  extinct,  and  man  is  nature's 
choice,  though  inferior  in  physical  power. 

Professor  Giddings  states  his  "first  law  of  social  choice"  as 
follows  :  "  In  all  social  choice  the  most  influential  ideal  is  that 
of  personal  force,  or  of  virtue  in  the  original  sense ;  the  second 
in  influence  is  the  hedonistic  or  utilitarian  ideal ;  the  third  is 
integrity ;  the  least  influential  is  the  ideal  of  self-realization ; 
but  if  mental  and  moral  evolution  continues,  the  higher  ideals 
must  become  increasingly  influential."  2 

The  law  of  progress  means  a  social  choice  of  more  varied 
and  more  harmonious  interests. 

The  law  of  progress  implies  a  higher  degree  of  rationality  in 
choice  of  both  ends  and  means. 

In  the  lowest  stages  of  culture  men  move  directly  and  impul- 
sively toward  the  objects  of  desire.  The  rule  of  imitation 
sways  conduct.  The  persons  who  compose  society  are  con- 
scious in  their  acts,  but  not  purposeful. 

Professor  Giddings  sums    up    the    laws    of    imitation,  after 

1  J.  Martineau,  A  Study  of  Religion,  II,  119.  Cf.  M.  Baldwin,  Social  Inter- 
pretations, p.  510  ff. 

2  Principles  of  Sociology,  pp.  408,  411. 


384  Social  Elements 


M.  Tarde,  in  these  two  principles,  (1)  in  the  absence  of  in- 
terference, imitations  spread  in  a  geometrical  progression ; 
(2)  imitations  are  refracted  by  their  media.  This  stage  is 
what  Dr.  Ward  calls  "genetic"  progress. 

Progress  by  rational  intention,  —  what  Dr.  Ward  calls  "  telic  " 
progress.  By  this  we  mean  that  the  members  and  the  admin- 
istrative representatives  of  communities  increasingly  direct 
their  associated  actions  according  to  plans.  They  are  not 
content  to  fumble  and  grope  in  the  dark,  but  light  the  lamps 
of  science  to  find  the  way  and  the  objects  of  desire. 

There  is  an  increasing  command  over  the  environment  of 
mankind,  due  to  this  application  of  intelligence  to  the  condi- 
tions. It  is  seen  and  recognized  that  unless  the  choices  and 
preferences  of  a  people  conform  to  the  conditions  of  survival 
they  will  produce  feebleness,  suffering,  and  extinction.  So  the 
very  choices  of  society  come  under  this  regulative  principle. 

With  the  diffusion  of  intelligence  and  the  formation  of  cus- 
toms and  character  suitable  to  the  conditions  of  survival  and  of 
well-being  mankind  becomes  more  truly  free.  Constraint  is 
less  necessary,  because  the  likings  and  preferences  of  men 
more  nearly  correspond  to  the  demands  of  life  and  the  ways  to 
happiness.  The  time  is  not  yet  ripe  for  a  codification  of  the 
laws  of  social  progress  ;  but  the  grand  trunk  lines  of  the  direc- 
tion and  tendency  of  the  progressive  movement  are  suggested 
by  a  survey  of  history  and  a  minute  investigation  of  individual 
development. 

V.  Petrifaction  and  Retrogression. —  Observation  shows  us  that 
progress,  as  defined  above,  is  by  no  means  necessary  or  univer- 
sal. Our  view  of  life,  to  be  true,  must  take  into  its  survey  the 
facts  of  decay,  stagnation,  and  ruin.  We  know  that  large  num- 
bers of  persons  cannot  keep  step  with  the  advancing  host. 
Crippled  by  inherited  weakness  or  acquired  vice,  they  straggle 
in  the  rear  and  sink  at  last  under  the  burdens  of  existence. 
They  seem  to  add  nothing  to  the  sum  of  good  and  to  be  them- 
selves dead  weight  upon  the  strong.  We  have  in  all  civilized 
lands  to  support  a  mixed  multitude  of  indolent,  slow,  defective, 
stupid,  vicious,  and  criminal  people.  Entire  nations,  like  the 
Chinese,  seem  to  reach  a  fairly  high  level  of  culture  and  then 
cease    to    make  additions  to    inventions,  ideas,  and   inspiring 


Social  Progress  385 


thoughts.  Other  peoples  seem  to  go  backward  until  they 
perish,  as  tribes  of  Indians  have  done,  and  the  natives  of  the 
Sandwich  Islands.  We  need  to  consider  these  facts  because 
they  are  realities,  part  of  the  sum  of  reality  with  which  society 
must  deal.  There  is  a  sort  of  immoral  optimism  which  looks 
on  the  struggle  of  life  as  a  game  where  humanity  js  doomed  to 
win  without  sacrifice  and  effort,  without  self-discipline,  without 
strenuous  toil.  Progress  is,  in  their  view,  secured  by  some 
fatal  process  which  does  not  consult  the  choices  of  mankind. 
But  an  honest  and  intelligent  study  of  the  facts  of  stagnation, 
parasitism,  vice,  crime,  and  selfish  injury  should  dispel  all  such 
shallow  hopes. 

VI.  The  Prospects  of  Social  Progress.  —  We  have  already  em- 
phasized the  fact  that  the  future  is  not  for  our  sight.  There  we 
must  walk  by  faith.  If  we  are  to  see  the  coming  day  as  it  must 
be,  and  if  we  are  to  help  realize  our  own  vision  of  good,  we 
must  pass  beyond  the  limits  of  rigid  science  and  construct  our 
hopes  out  of  the  same  materials  as  those  which  compose  the 
foundations  of  science  itself.  We  are  not  fully  equipped  for 
making  the  hoped  good  become  a  reality  until  we  attain  two 
convictions ;  that  at  the  heart  of  the  universe  is  everlasting 
rectitude,  goodness,  and  veracity  ;  and,  secondly,  that  we  our- 
selves should  give  our  choice  to  that  theory  of  existence  and 
commit  our  very  lives  to  that  hypothesis. 

We  may  find  it  impossible  to  verify  this  theory,  to  make  it 
clear  to  sceptical  neighbors,  to  prove  it  by  what  is  called  sci- 
entific argument ;  but  every  step  we  take  in  that  direction  we 
help  to  make  sure  that  our  venture  was  wise  and  fair.  If  all 
good  men  band  themselves  together  to  make  the  world  better, 
sustained  and  directed  by  belief  that  they  ought  to  try,  they 
may  in  the  end  prove  beyond  a  cavil  that  they  were  right, 
demonstrating  the  truth  of  their  theory  by  the  visible  institu- 
tions of  wisdom,  knowledge,  and  love  which  never  could  have 
been  built  save  by  those  whom  faith  made  faithful.  Nor  is  this 
a  mere  blind  belief,  a  desperate  plunge  into  a  dark  abyss ;  it  is 
the  rational  act  of  human  beings  following  with  fidelity  the  best 
sentiments  and  highest  interests  of  mankind.  Faith  is  to  the 
spiritual  adventurer  what  courage  is  to  the  soldier  in  battle  ; 
his  very  shout  of  determination  and  hope  is  part  of  the  means 

2C 


386  Social  Elements 


of  victory.  Theoretically  it  may  be  imagined  possible  that  the 
universe  will  make  dupes  of  good  men  and  mock  them  with 
defeat  and  eternal  death.  Theoretically  it  may  be  imagined 
possible  that  the  pessimist  is  right,  and  that  existence  is  an 
evil ;  that  all  we  count  good  is  weak  and  helpless ;  that  there 
is  no  divine  event  of  love  toward  which  the  whole  creation 
moves.  Those  who  believe  that  way  and  act  logically,  will  help 
to  make  a  world  of  blackness  and  darkness  which  will  verify 
their  dismal  and  wicked  theory.  All  the  more  important  is  it 
that  there  shall  be  others  who  will  not  believe  that  faith  in  good 
is  wrong,  and  who  will  make  sacrifices  and  efforts  to  justify  their 
creed  of  light  and  justice.  It  is  hard  to  argue  with  the  other 
kind  of  reasoners.  Fortunately  we  are  not  required  by  any 
canon  of  morality  to  pass  judgment  on  them.  Their  lives  are 
often  better  than  their  logic.  But  an  immoral  logic,  whose 
natural  tendency  and  effect  is  to  poison  the  fountains  of  energy 
and  enfeeble  the  soul  that  strives  for  perfection,  we  may  and 
ought  to  judge  and  rob  it  of  influence  if  we  can. 

"  Cast  leaves  and  feathers  rot  in  last  year's  nest, 
The  winged  brood,  flown  hence,  new  dwellings  plan; 
The  serf  of  his  own  past  is  not  a  man; 
To  change  and  change  is  life,  to  move  and  never  rest;  — 
Not  what  we  are,  but  what  we  hope,  is  best." 

VII  What  is  Next  to  be  Done  ?  —  In  connection  with  the 
discussion  of  each  particular  social  institution  we  have  consid- 
ered various  suggestions  of  betterment.  Social  progress  de- 
pends on  a  multitude  of  special  works  carried  on  by  multitudes 
of  individuals,  each  filled  with  the  desire  to  promote  the  welfare 
of  others,  each  endowed  with  some  faculty  of  special  service 
held  in  trust  for  his  fellows. 

But  there  is  a  great  advantage  in  surveying  these  specific 
efforts  from  a  more  general  standpoint.  Society  is  advancing 
to  the  position  where  the  thought  of  one  person  soon  becomes 
the  thought  of  many  or  of  all.  With  our  modern  system  of 
communication  and  transportation  thoughts  travel  quickly  from 
centres  of  influence  to  the  remotest  corners  of  the  civilized 
world.  Trade  between  towns,  states,  cities,  and  nations  dif- 
fuses ideas  and  unites  interests,  or  at  least  compels  one  people 


Sochi  I  Progress  387 


to  feel  quickly  anything  which  affects  other  peoples.  A  good 
example  is  the  effect  of  an  outbreak  of  fever  in  Cuba  upon  the 
health  and  trade  of  the  Southern  States.  The  failure  of  a 
wheat  crop  in  Siberia  or  South  America  or  India  affects  the 
purchasing  power  of  Minnesota  farmers.  Society  is  rapidly 
gaining  a  true  common  consciousness.  Men  know  their  com- 
mon interests  and  are  prepared  to  act  together. 

It  is  natural  that  society  should  begin  to  consider  the  law  of 
common  action  in  reference  to  the  advancement  of  the  com- 
mon welfare,  and  that  men  should  consciously  discuss  ami 
agree  upon  definite  plans  for  betterment,  and  not  leave  the 
dearest  interests  of  society  to  accident  and  the  rough  play  of 
selfish  struggles. 

In  each  part  of  the  discussion  we  have  sought  to  bring  out 
the  truth  that  human  welfare  is  not  some  one  simple,  abstract 
thing,  but  the  very  wealth  of  life  itself.  For  the  intellect,  it  is 
knowledge ;  for  the  feelings,  it  is  the  varied  world  of  beautiful 
and  agreeable  objects  and  experiences ;  for  the  moral  nature, 
it  is  goodness  and  justice  ;  and  for  society  as  a  whole,  it  is  the 
sharing  of  all  the  infinite  richness  of  life  by  all  members  of  the 


community. 

The  human  race  may  be  improved,  we  hope  will  be  improved 
more  and  more,  in  the  same  way  in  which  varieties  of  grains 
and  fruits,  and  breeds  of  horses  and  cattle  are  perfected,  —  by 
selection  of  parents  and  favoring  conditions  of  rearing.  Plato 
saw  this  method  clearly,  and  proposed  a  plan  of  producing  the 
best  citizens  under  strict  governmental  control.  But  his  theory 
was  never  adopted,  and  seems  further  from  acceptance  than 
ever.  We  can  see,  however,  some  slight  steps  in  this  direction 
when  the  State  separates  the  feeble-minded  and  other  defec- 
tives, and  thus  prevents  them  from  reproducing  their  defects. 
It  is  possible  to  extend  this  measure  to  some  extent,  but  not 
very  far.  The  amount  of  interference  with  liberty  and  the 
possibility  of  cruel  injustice  will  restrict  such  direct  governmental 
breeding  process  within  narrow  limits. 

We  may  look  for  some  improvement  in  the  human  type  from 
growth  of  intelligence  and  morality.  Consumptives  and  other 
diseased  persons  will  voluntarily  refrain  from  marriage  or  from 
reproduction.     But  we  cannot  expect  much  from  this  direction 


388  Social  Elements 


for  a  long  time,  perhaps  for  ages.  Those  who  are  weak  in 
body  are  likely  to  be  weak  in  mind  and  will,  short-sighted,  im- 
pulsive. 

We  must  depend  more  on  education,  and  for  two  reasons  : 
If  social  selection  is  to  be  promoted  on  a  large  and  effective 
scale,  it  will  be  only  by  the  growth  and  diffusion  of  intelligence 
and  increase  of  moral  self-control.  If  the  general  type  is  to 
improve,  it  can  be  only  by  the  adoption  of  a  universal  system 
of  education  which  will  develop  body,  intellect,  and  character. 

Progress  implies  not  only  an  improvement  in  man  himself, 
but  also  in  his  resources,  his  control  over  nature,  and  his  better 
social  organization.  Social  selection  must,  therefore,  aim  at 
amelioration  of  outward  conditions  as  well  as  of  the  human 
type.     The  two  elements  constantly  react  upon  each  other. 

The  Limitations  of  Direct  Effort. —  A  little  reflection  will  show 
that  direct  commands,  laws,  and  efforts  go  but  a  little  way  toward 
securing  these  goods  of  social  life.  Personal  character  does  not 
spring  up  instantly  in  response  to  our  individual  acts  of  will,  or 
in  answer  to  the  edicts  of  legislatures  and  emperors.  Nor  can 
we  by  saying  to  ourselves  "  let  us  will  to  be  joyous  and  happy, 
contented  and  peaceful,"  be  so  on  the  instant ;  for  the  feelings 
are  not  thus  at  our  command,  and  the  will  of  an  empire,  ex- 
pressed in  law,  cannot  make  one  bootblack  happy.  Beauty, 
wealth,  goodness,  happiness,  knowledge,  are  not  thus  to  be  gained 
by  direct  attack.  Reforms  built  on  this  haste  to  secure  the 
ends  of  life  by  direct  action  come  to  bitter  grief  and  sore  disap- 
pointment. The  pleasure-seeker  never  finds  the  object  of  his 
quest,  but  his  pursuit  ends  in  disgust,  ennui.  Pleasure  comes 
with  agreeable  occupation.  Knowledge  issues  from  mental 
toil  suitably  directed  according  to  the  laws  of  learning.  Wealth 
arises  at  the  end  of  a  long  series  of  prudent  actions.  The  satis- 
factions of  our  aesthetic  nature  spring  from  the  presence  of 
statues,  pictures,  poems,  which  are  the  fruits  of  continuous 
discipline  and  prolonged  labor. 

The  Place  of  Beliefs.  —  Actions,  which  form  habits  when  re- 
peated and  lead  to  character  at  last,  are  themselves  the  results 
of  certain  convictions.  Social  actions  are  the  effects  of  beliefs 
or  convictions  shared  by  many  or  by  all.  Beliefs  of  a  com- 
munity are  embodied  and  exhibited  in  social  institutions,  and 


Social  Progress  389 


these  several  institutions  express  special  beliefs  and  forms  of 
conviction,  as  schools,  governments,  industries,  languages,  cus- 
toms, fashions. 

Ideas  are  the  cause  of  beliefs  and  convictions,  feelings,  and 
volitions.  We  may  use  these  general  words,  ideas,  and  thoughts, 
to  include  all  the  forms  of  knowledge,  thinking,  imagination, 
sentiments,  ideals  which  take  possession  of  the  mind.  We  may 
extend  it  to  all  presentations  brought  before  the  intelligence  ; 
impressions  from  nature,  knowledge  of  external  reality  and  of 
human  character  and  achievement ;  all  pictures,  statues,  casts, 
edifices,  dress,  forms  of  animals  and  of  men,  poems,  —  all  which 
supplies  materials  for  the  intellect.  What  we  desire  to  see  come 
out  in  emotion,  character,  and  conduct  must  first  be  offered  as 
presentation.  We  cannot  directly  cause  feeling  or  produce  de- 
vices. All  we  can  do  is  to  bring  ideas,  images,  knowledge,  before 
the  soul.  The  logic  of  the  soul  takes  charge  of  these  sugges- 
tions. If  we  could  absolutely  exclude  hurtful  impressions,  and 
keep  the  whole  sky,  horizon,  and  landscape  of  the  mind  full  of 
beauty,  truth,  and  goodness,  there  would  be  no  alternatives  of 
choice.  The  suggestion  of  the  perfect  would  have  the  field 
without  a  base  rival.  This  entire  possession  of  the  mental  range 
being  impossible,  we  must  strive  to  approximate  it. 

The  Introduction  of  Ideas  into  the  Social  Mind.  —  We  are  not 
here  considering  the  first  origin  of  knowledge,  its  primary  dis- 
covery in  some  individual  minds,  but  its  beginning  as  a  com- 
mon possession  of  a  community.  We  are  seeking  to  answer 
the  question,  how  do  thoughts  become  a  common  possession, 
and  thence  a  common  cause  of  social  action,  of  social  beliefs, 
and  so  of  social  conduct,  character,  and  happiness?  The  most 
obvious  answer  is  that  ideas  must  be  presented  in  some  way 
to  the  minds  of  the  members  of  a  community,  must  be  trans- 
mitted from  the  centres  of  origin,  and  somehow  set  before  the 
thought  of  all. 

What  Presentations  ?  —  The  two  great  questions  here  are 
What?  and  How?  And,  first,  consider,  as  a  brief  summary  of 
the  scattered  suggestions  of  this  volume  already  given,  what 
presentations  are  desirable  in  order  to  secure  the  actions, 
habits,  and  conduct  which  lead  to  social  welfare.  Certainly 
all  will  see  that  knowledge  is  necessary,  —  knowledge  of  the  two 


390  Social  Elements 


great  worlds  which  press  upon  us  all,  the  worlds  of  nature  and 
of  humanity.  Every  chapter  of  this  treatise  has  brought  out 
the  subjects  of  human  concern,  and  given  reasons  for  the  study 
of  particular  fields  of  investigation. 

But  if  man  is  to  appreciate,  create,  and  enjoy  beauty,  then 
objects  of  beauty,  in  nature  and  in  art,  must  be  presented 
to  all  men.  In  homes  and  galleries,  in  streets  and  parks,  in 
museums  accessible  to  all  citizens,  in  music  halls  and  churches, 
in  schoolrooms,  in  the  forms  and  adornments  of  public  build- 
ings, in  the  green  fringe  of  roadsides  and  the  calm  of  ceme- 
teries, in  dress  and  gestures,  in  polite  graces  and  sweet  speech, 
in  handwriting  and  etiquette,  in  table  manners  and  public  greet- 
ings, —  everywhere,  and  in  all  objects  and  acts,  the  imagination 
must  have  presented  to  it  the  finished  and  perfect  forms  of 
things  and  actions. 

But  beyond  all  knowledge  and  beyond  all  objects  of  beauty 
is  the  Person  who  transcends  our  knowledge,  and  yet  whom 
we  must  assume  as  existing,  if  we  are  to  have  any  rational 
ground  for  our  science  or  our  art.  God  is  the  object  of  our 
Faith.  Complete  living  implies  the  constant  presentation  of 
the  thought  of  the  Perfect  One,  perfect  wisdom,  beauty,  good- 
ness. 

Thus  we  come  to  the  presentation  of  ideals  of  character  and 
personality,  and  of  social  cooperation.  Professor  E.  A.  Ross 
has  classified  these  ideals  as  follows  :  "  The  church  has  a  heri- 
tage of  ethical  types  so  nobly  conceived  and  so  graciously  put 
as  to  have  wonderful  power  of  exciting  love  and  admiration. 
But  whatever  in  conduct  or  character  we  admire  we  strive  to 
become.  The  admired  becomes  the  ideal  —  the  goal  toward 
which  we  press.  Now,  the  church  is  the  custodian  of  many 
fragrant  and  precious  ideals,  framed  to  the  idea  of  fraternity. 
These  are  collective  ideals,  such  as  the  transfigured  society 
designated  as  '  the  kingdom  of  heaven ' ;  abstract  ideals,  such 
as  that  of  purity  or  forgiveness ;  specific  ideals,  such  as  Paul's 
portrait  of  the  Christian  ;  concrete  ideals,  such  as  the  transcen- 
dent figure  of  Jesus.  The  effect  of  holding  up  such  pattern 
lives,  characters,  qualities,  or  virtues,  as  they  are  imbedded  in 
the  tradition  of  the  church,  and  set  forth  so  entrancingly  in 
narrative,  example,  parable  and  saying,  is  to  inspire  for  them 


Social  Progress  391 


a  love  and  admiration  that  may  become  the  formative  force  of 
life."  ] 

By  What  Social  Means  is  this  Presentation  Effected?  — 
Somehow  knowledge,  wisdom,  grace  and  superior  character  have 
found  their  way  into  human  history,  and  become  embodied  in 
individuals  of  lofty  form,  in  literature,  in  text-books,  in  various 
institutions.  But  so  long  as  these  spiritual  goods  are  unknown 
they  are  dead  to  mankind.  Books  unread,  pictures  unseen, 
characters  hidden,  lie  cold  and  stark  as  in  a  mausoleum.  Only 
by  popularizing  a  truth  or  a  work  of  art  does  it  become  a  social 
power.  Those  who  are  in  possession  of  these  elements  of  good 
are  responsible  trustees  on  behalf  of  mankind. 

The  Public  School  System.  —  The  only  organ  of  the  entire 
community  for  the  transmission  of  knowledge,  the  exhibition  of 
ideals  of  character,  and  desirable  instruction  and  training  is  the 
free  and  "  compulsory  "  public  school  system.  This  is  the  only 
institution  which  belongs  to  the  whole  society,  which  is  created 
and  governed  directly  by  its  administration,  and  which  is  avail- 
able to  bring  the  growing  community  of  youth  under  the  best 
influences  which  can  be  offered  by  the  present  adult  mind  and 
heart.  If  society  is  to  make  education  possible  for  all,  it  must 
provide  the  means  of  instruction  for  all.  And  since  nearly  all 
children  would  neglect  the  opportunity  until  too  late,  and  since 
many  parents,  through  ignorance,  indolence,  greed,  or  poverty 
would  fail  in  their  parental  duty,  therefore  the  State  is  obliged 
to  require  all  parents  to  send  their  children  to  some  school 
for  a  certain  minimum  period.  "  Compulsory "  education, 
as  it  is  generally  and  unhappily  called,  is  the  necessary  and 
logical  expression  of  the  social  conviction  that  every  citizen 
should  be  fitted  by  knowledge  and  discipline  for  his  place 
in  society.  The  requirement  that  every  child  should  go  to 
some  school  is  compulsory  only  as  parental  requirement  is  com- 
pulsory. Family  discipline  usually  calls  for  more  or  less  exercise 
of  the  power  and  authority  of  parents  over  their  young  children 
in  order  to  avoid  physical  and  moral  injury.  The  State  simply 
directs  parents  to  see  that  this  authority  and  power  are  exer- 
cised in  the  manner  judged  to  be  necessary  to  the  safety  and 
propriety  of  the  people  of  the  State. 

1  The  Outlook,  Aug.  18,  1897. 


392  Social  Elements 


But  compulsory  education  does  not  imply  that  private  and 
parochial  schools  shall  be  forbidden.  The  State  may  properly 
require  that  every  child  be  sent  to  school  for  a  certain  period, 
and  may  so  inspect  all  schools  as  to  make  certain  that  their 
instruction  is  of  suitable  quality,  without  in  the  least  interfering 
with  the  liberty  of  parents  to  establish  schools  of  their  own  if 
they  choose  to  support  them  at  private  cost.  And  this  is  ex- 
actly the  principle  on  which  our  governments  in  this  country 
usually  act. 

Society  is  not  identical  with  the  State.  The  government  is 
only  one  organ  through  which  society  may  act  to  gain  its  ends. 
The  family,  the  church,  the  voluntary  association,  the  club,  the 
lodge,  are  other  forms  of  organization  by  means  of  which 
groups  of  persons  may  give  instruction  and  transmit  culture. 
The  voluntary  association  has  often  been  the  pioneer  of  educa- 
tion when  the  majority  of  the  people  were  either  hostile  or 
indifferent.  The  various  branches  of  the  church  established 
schools  of  all  grades  before  public  sentiment  generally  sup- 
ported the  movement  for  free  public  schools.  It  was  these 
denominational  and  private  schools  which  cultivated  a  taste 
and  produced  a  hunger  for  universal  provision  for  education. 

And  when  the  State  neglects  its  duty,  private  agency  is  again 
left  free  to  push  into  new  fields  of  enterprise.  If  the  State 
should  suppress  competing  schools,  its  own  institutions  might 
be  in  danger  of  petrification.  By  permitting  full  freedom  to  all 
competent  persons,  and  by  requiring  all  to  prove  to  inspectors 
that  their  intellectual  work  is  of  proper  quality,  the  State  schools 
are  always  kept  up  to  the  highest  standard  of  efficiency.  No 
private  rights  are  invaded.  No  injustice  is  done.  No  reason- 
able consciences  are  wounded.1 

There  is  always  room  for  individual  acts  of  generosity  to 
promising  scholars.  The  Scotch  village  schoolmaster  in  Beside 
the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush  was  roused  to  eloquence  in  his  plea 
with  the  rich  laird  to  assist  a  bright  young  scholar  at  the  uni- 
versity :  "  Ye  think  that  a'm  asking  a  great  thing  when  I  plead 
for  a  pickle  notes  to  give  a  puir  laddie  a  college  education.  I 
tell  ye,  man,  a'm  honorin'  ye  and  givin'  ye  the  fairest  chance 
ye'll  ever  hae  a'  winning  wealth.  Give  ye  store  the  money  ye 
hae  scrapit  by  mony  a  hard  bargain,  some  heir  ye  never  saw '11 


Social  Progress  393 


gar  it  flee  in  chambering  and  wantoness.  Give  ye  hed  the 
heart  to  spend  it  on  a  lad  o'  pairts  like  Geordie  Hoo,  ye  wud 
hae  twa  rewards  nae  man  could  tak  frae  ye.  Ane  wud  be  the 
honest  gratitude  o'  a  laddie  whose  desire  for  knowledge  ye  had 
sateesfied,  and  the  second  would  be  this  —  anither  scholar  in 
the  land  ;  and  a'm  thinking  with  auld  John  Knox  that  ilka 
scholar  is  something  added  to  the  riches  of  the  common- 
wealth."    Domsie  gained  his  point. 

The  question  of  the  provision  for  religious  education  is  one 
of  vast  moment.  Most  citizens  recognize  the  fact  that  educa- 
tion which  omits  the  religious  factor  is  incomplete.  In  some 
countries  the  public  schools  do  teach  religious  doctrines,  as 
was  formerly  true  in  this  country.  Indeed,  religion  has  by  no 
means  disappeared  from  our  state-supported  schools  and  col- 
leges and  universities.  So  long  as  most  teachers  share  the  faith 
of  the  community  which  has  produced  them,  it  will  be  impossi- 
ble to  take  this  influence  out  of  the  establishments  of  education. 
Formal  lessons  may  properly  be  prohibited  and  excluded. 
Denominational  teaching  may  be  and  should  be  left  to  family 
and  church.  But  so  long  as  incarnated  religion,  ideals,  and 
faiths  embodied  in  personalities  and  good  deeds,  are  the 
clearest  and  mightiest  expression  of  worship,  so  long  religion 
will  be  taught  in  public  schools.  Patriotism,  good  nature,  kind 
charity,  and  wise  statesmanship  will  be  able  to  adjust  the  claims 
of  different  elements  of  the  community,  so  that  all  interests  will 
be  justly  treated  and  the  highest  factors  of  culture  find  a  place 
in  every  soul. 

In  Goethe's  Faust  the  hero  tries  learning,  lust,  power,  am- 
bition, —  all.  In  his  old  age  he  turns  to  the  task  of  rescuing 
a  barren  tract  from  salt  sea  waves,  and  giving  it  over  to  happy 
homes  and  fertile  gardens ;  and  in  this  addition  to  the  sum  of 
human  good  he  finds  the  climax  of  his  joy : 

"  Below  the  hills  a  marshy  plain 
Infects  what  I  so  long  have  been  retiring. 
This  stagnant  pool  likewise  to  drain 
Were  now  my  latest  and  my  best  achieving. 
To  many  millions  let  me  furnish  soil, 
Though  not  secure,  yet  free  to  active  toil; 
Green,  fertile  fields,  where  men  and  herds  go  forth 


394  Social  Elements 


At  once,  with  comfort,  on  the  newest  earth, 

And  swiftly  settled  on  the  hill's  firm  base, 

Created  by  the  bold,  industrious  race. 

A  land  like  Paradise  here,  round  about : 

Up  to  the  brink  the  tide  may  roar  without. 

And  though  it  gnaw,  to  burst  with  force  the  limit, 

By  common  impulse  all  unite  to  hem  it. 

Yes !  to  this  thought  I  hold  with  firm  persistence; 

The  last  result  of  wisdom  stamps  it  true : 

He  only  earns  his  freedom  and  existence, 

Who  daily  conquers  them  anew. 

Thus  here,  by  dangers  girt,  shall  glide  away, 

Of  childhood,  manhood,  age,  the  vigorous  day; 

And  such  a  throng  I  fain  would  see,  — 

Stand  on  free  soil  among  a  people  free ! 

Then  dared  I  hail  the  moment  fleeing : 

'Ah,  still  delay  —  thou  art  so  fair  ! ' 

The  traces  cannot,  of  mine  earthly  being, 

In  aeons  perish,  —  they  are  there  !  — 

In  proud  free  feeling  of  such  lofty  bliss, 

I  now  enjoy  the  highest  moment,  —  this." 

Angels  (bearing  to  heaven  the  immortal  part  of  Faust)  sing 

"  The  noble  spirit  now  is  free, 
And  saved  from  evil  scheming : 
Whoe'er  aspires  unweariedly 
Is  not  beyond  redeeming. 
And  if  he  feels  the  grace  of  Love 
That  from  on  High  is  given, 
The  Blessed  Hosts,  that  wait  above, 
Shall  welcome  him  to  heaven." 


APPENDIX 


-+0+- 


DIRECTIONS   FOR    LOCAL   STUDIES 

"The  art  of  asking  questions  is  not  so  easy  as  some  think.  It  is  much 
more  the  art  of  a  master  than  of  a  pupil.  One  must  already  have  learned 
much  in  order  to  know  how  to  ask  what  he  does  not  know.  An  Indian 
proverb  says  :  '  The  learned  man  knows  and  inquires,  but  the  ignorant  person 
does  not  even  know  enough  to  set  him  inquiring.'  "  —  Rousseau,  La  Nouvelle 
Hcloise. 

Make  your  own  maps.  Do  not  be  content  with  looking  at  those 
made  by  others,  although  they  may  be  more  beautiful  and  perfect 
than  those  you  may  make.  Drawing  is  a  creative  act.  not  mere  pas- 
sive reception  of  impressions,  soon  forgotten.  Make  many  different 
kinds  of  maps,  with  records  of  different  sets  of  facts  of  interest  to 
the  common  welfare.  The  maps  given  herewith  are  merely  illustra- 
tions and  suggestions. 

Suggestions  for  the  Study  of  a  Town  :   Maps  and 

Description 

/.  The  Physical  Environment.  The  basis  of  social  study  is  geog- 
raphy. 

Draw  a  map  of  the  state  in  order  to  show  the  location  of  the  town 
in  relation  to  the  commonwealth.  The  natural  features  can  be  indi- 
cated as  in  ordinary  maps.  The  reports  of  the  state  geologists, 
botanists,  etc.,  and  the  local  histories  will  furnish  materials.  Indi- 
cate on  the  maps,  as  far  as  possible,  the  following  facts,  and  write 
down  information  in  accompanying  descriptions  and  explanations. 

Soil ;  elevations  and  depressions  ;  mineral  products  ;  streams. 
Draw  maps  of  the  county  and  of  the  township,  with  more  details. 
Climate  :  describe  seasons,  rainfall,  temperature,  and  their  influence 
on  food,  clothing,  houses.  Describe  the  vegetable  productions  of 
the  county,  native  and  exotic.  Give  an  account  of  native  and 
domesticated  animals. 

395 


396  Social  Elements 


II.    The  Sources  of  the  Population. 

1.  The  early  settlers. 

2.  The  immigrants,  at  various  dates. 

3.  The  present  elements  of  population. 

4.  The  population  of  the  county  and  state. 

In  description,  state  in  regard  to  each  of  above  classes: 

1.  Their  former  residence  (country,  race,  language). 

2.  Their  reasons  for  emigration. 

3.  Their  reasons  for  selecting  this  particular  location.      These 
reasons  may  be  economic,  political,  family,  religion,  education,  etc. 

4.  Map  showing  distribution  of  population  ;  as,  neighborhoods  of 


negroes,  or  some  other  race  element. 

III.  The  Buildings  of  the  Town. 

On  large  outline  maps,  draw  the  location  of  buildings  at  different 
stages  of  growth:  (1)  the  early  village  settlement;  (2)  the  first 
town  incorporation ;  (3)  the  present  city.  Distinguish  by  color  or 
other  marks:  (1)  the  residences;  (2)  the  hotels;  (3)  the  places 
of  manufacture ;  (4)  the  places  of  wholesale  and  retail  trade ; 
(5)  banks;  (6)  government  buildings,  —  national,  state,  county, 
city?  (7)  schools;  (8)  churches;  (9)  public  halls;  (10)  saloons; 
(11)  other  buildings.     Describe  height  and  materials  of  buildings. 

I V.  The  Works  of  the  Community  for  Protection,  Health,  Con- 
venience, Comfort. 

1.  Means  of  transportation.  Draw  a  map  of  the  town  and  sur- 
rounding country  to  show  navigable  streams,  canals,  roads,  railroads, 
electric  lines. 

Draw  map  of  streets,  alleys  ;  indicate  pavements,  walks  ;  describe 
the  system  of  transportation,  extent,  ownership,  fares,  accommoda- 
tion. 

2.  Means  of  communication.  Map  showing  telegraph,  telephone, 
postal  lines  and  offices  ;  describe  system  ;  map  showing  the  houses 
and  offices  of  subscribers  to  the  most  popular  newspaper. 

3.  Protection.  Map  of  offices,  houses,  districts  of  (a)  police 
department,  (0)  militia,  (c)  fire  department ;  describe  each  system. 

4.  Map  of  lighting  system,  extent,  cost.  Describe  business  organi- 
zation. 

5.  Sanitary.  Map  of  (a)  drainage  and  sewers  ;  (b)  water  system, 
pumping  stations,  reservoirs,  pipes ;  (V)  low  and  insanitary  places. 
Describe  each  system,  cost,  extent,  defects,  and  its  business  organi- 
zation, whether  private  or  public. 

6.  Parks,  drives,  and  boulevards. 

7.  Cemeteries- 


/ 


Xppendix  397 


V.  Industrial  and  Commercial  Organizations, 

Map  showing  (1)  location  of  all  shops  and  factories;  (2)  whole- 
sale and  retail  stores;    (3)  hanks. 

Describe  conditions:  Members  engaged  in  each  occupation; 
capital  invested  in  each  occupation  ;  product,  quantity,  and  value ; 
organization  of  each  industry,  household,  capitalistic,  or  cooperative  ; 
describe  the  process  of  one  or  more  industries,  step  by  step ;  set 
down  the  number  of  adults  and  children  (under  16)  in  each  place; 
the  hours  of  labor,  per  day,  per  week  ;  the  wages  paid,  per  day,  per 
year ;  average  days  of  employment,  idleness,  regularity,  and  causes  ; 
Sunday  work,  how  general,  how  regarded  by  workmen  ;  physical  and 
moral  conditions  of  the  shop  ;  mental  and  spiritual  effects  of  the 
work  on  employees ;  ownership  and  lease  of  lands  and  buildings ; 
commercial  property:  capital  invested  in  various  forms  of  business  ; 
amount  of  yearly  sales  ;  banks  :  capital  and  business  ;  trade  unions  : 
names,  objects,  membership ;  how  regarded  by  employers  and 
others  ;  tendencies  towards  socialism,  single-tax,  etc. ;  cooperative 
enterprises  :  describe  methods  and  extent  of  business  ;  corporations  : 
capital  invested,  dividends  paid,  influence  on  local  business  ;  com- 
petitions of  large  cities  with  local  trade,  and  local  opinion  about  it. 

Friendly  societies  for  mutual  benefit,  so-called  "  benevolent " 
associations,  lodges,  fraternities :  memberships,  fees,  benefits  (sick, 
accident,  burial,  death,  etc.). 

VI.  Institutions  of  Culture. 

Map  showing  location  of  buildings  devoted  to  the  following  pur- 
poses : 

Schools,  with  accompanying  description  and  statistics  of  edifices, 
rooms,  studies,  physical  conditions,  apparatus,  libraries,  teachers 
(men  and  women),  system  of  supervision,  normal  instruction. 
Give  an  account  of  private  schools  and  compare  with  public  schools. 

Museums  and  collections  of  art  or  science. 

Libraries :  number  of  volumes,  method  of  distributing  books, 
work  with  the  schools  and  affiliation  with  clubs,  kinds  and  numbers 
of  books  read. 

Book  clubs. 

Methods  of  learning  trades  and  arts. 

Literary,  art,  musical,  debating  societies,  membership,  character 
of  work,  effects  and  influences. 

Entertainments,  kinds  and  influence.     Public  sentiment. 

Gymnastic  classes. 

The  use  of  Sunday  for  art,  sociability,  study,  lectures,  and  action 
on  public  sentiment. 

VII.  Regulative  Agencies. 

Map  showing  buildings  devoted  to  city,  county,  state,  or  national 
offices  ;  political  divisions  (wards,  voting  precincts,  etc.). 


398  Social  Elements 


Describe  the  government  of  the  state,  county,  city,  town  ;  titles  of 
officers,  duties,  mode  of  election  or  appointment,  terms  of  office, 
salaries  and  incomes  from  fees,  efficiency;  assessment  and  taxation, 
rate,  modes,  principles,  abuses,  efforts  to  regulate  and  reform. 

Make  a  brief  outline  or  digest  of  important  state  laws  relating  to 
the  family,  to  business,  factories,  schools,  crime,  poor  relief,  sanita- 
tion, sale  of  liquor,  Sunday  laws,  landlord  and  tenant,  apprenticeship. 

Describe  customs,  sentiments,  fashion,  and  etiquette  relating  to 
domestic  affairs,  intellectual  and  artistic  life,  industry  and  trade, 
churches,  politics,  funerals,  ornaments,  dress,  salutation,  public 
assemblies,  religion,  and  church. 

Describe  the  kind  and  degree  of  influence  exercised  by  local 
"  leaders  "  in  business,  fashions,  church,  medical  matters,  politics, 
etc. 

VIII.  Churches. 

Map  showing  location  of  buildings ;  houses  of  members  by 
denominations. 

Describe  value,  seating  capacity,  rooms  for  social  purposes ; 
church,  houses,  and  halls;  attendance  (men,  women,  children),  at 
morning  and  evening  services  ;  Sunday  school,  attendance,  teachers. 

Ministers,  —  salaries,  college  and  divinity  school  graduates. 

Sectarian  strife,  union  efforts,  etc. 

Other  religious  organizations;  Y.  M.  C.  A.  and  Y.  W.  C.  A. ; 
their  income,  membership,  departments  of  work,  methods,  influence. 

IX.  Philanthropic  Associations. 

Public  charities.  Map  showing  offices  of  relief,  and  residences 
of  persons  assisted.  Describe  law  and  method;  number  aided; 
amount  given,  —  for  support,  medical  care,  rent,  burial;  condition 
of  receiving,  need,  "  settlement."  Number  of  residents  sent  to  state 
institutions ;  blind,  deaf-mutes,  feeble-minded,  insane,  epileptic. 
Describe  (from  visit)  conditions  and  management  of  county  or 
town  poor-houses. 

Church  charities  ;  members  helped  ;  amounts  given. 

Private  and  benevolent  societies ;  numbers  helped ;  amounts 
given. 

X.  Institutions  of  Vice  and  of  Punishment  and  Correction. 

Map  showing  saloons  ;  also  offices  of  justices,  jail,  lock-up,  prison. 
Describe  (from  visit)  the  jail,  etc. 
Local  magistrates,  duties  and  character. 

Number  of  arrests,  —  by  sex,  age,  offences ;  number  in  jail,  re- 
form school,  prisons,  from  this  community. 


Appendix  399 

XI.   Institutions  of  Positive  Progress. 

Associations,   not   included   above   for  advancing  the  physical, 

intellectual,  aesthetic,  spiritual,  and  political  welfare  of  the  com- 
munity. 

Aggressive  movements  of  local  government,  school  authorities, 
churches,  clubs,  societies,  for  such  advanced  purposes. 

See  Catechism  foy  Social  Observation,  by  C.  R.  Henderson,  for 
further  details. 


TOPICS    FOR   PAPERS   AND    DISCUSSIONS 

Chapter  I 

'Write  out  a  definition  of  "society";  after  studying  the  book,  write 
another,  and  compare  them. 

Give  an  account  of  some  local  association,  club,  or  lodge,  — its  purposes? 
officers,  and  their  duties;  and  estimate  the  usefulness  of  the  society  to  its 
members  and  to  the  community. 

Chapter  II 

Make  a  chart  of  our  solar  system,  and  note  the  orbit  of  the  earth. 

Distinguish  the  fields  and  subjects  of  chemistry,  physics,  and  geography. 
Illustrate  the  influence  of  climate,  soil,  and  temperature  on  human  beings. 
Make  a  map,  and  write  an  account  of  the  mineral,  vegetable,  and  animal 
products  of  your  county  or  township.  Examples  of  waste  of  material 
resources.  Ask  old  settlers  about  effects  of  drainage  of  land  on  drought, 
floods,  etc. 

Illustrate  the  law  of  Diminishing  Returns  by  some  field  or  garden. 
State  the  Law  of  Variation.  Local  illustrations  of  conflict  and  struggle. 
State  the  meaning  of  "  natural  selection." 

Define  "  race."  On  a  map  of  county  or  township  locate  families  of  dif- 
ferent races.  Describe  personal  differences  by  physical  marks  and  charac- 
teristics. 

Write  out  examples  of  hard  aspects  of  nature,  and  also  illustrations  of 
its  beauty,  sublimity,  and  service  to  man.  Criticise  the  quotations  from 
Walker  and  Mill,  and  show  where  they  are  defective.  Find  passages  in 
Shelley,  Wordsworth,  Shakespeare,  and  other  poets  revealing  the  spiritual 
meaning  of  nature.  Discuss  the  value  of  knowledge  of  nature  to  the 
farmer. 

Discuss  the  value  of  nature-study  in  relation  to  social  life,  and  add  your 
own  reflections. 

Chapter  III 

Describe  for  yourself  the  parts,  organs,  and  members  of  the  human  body 
and  their  functions.    Define  "  function."    What  is  anatomy  ?    Physiology  ? 


4<do  Social  Elements 


Define  "organism  "  and  "organization."  Compare  a  physical  body  with  a 
social  community  and  state  resemblances  and  differences. 

What  are  the  chief  topics  of  psychology  ?  What  are  the  chief  kinds  of 
motives  which  impel  men  to  action  ?  Describe  the  characters  of  various 
persons  known  to  you.  Can  you  throw  light  on  the  causes  of  the  differ- 
ences among  them  ?  Give  examples  of  the  union  of  persons  induced  by 
their  differences. 

Can  you  define  the  objects  and  give  some  of  the  results  of"  Child -study"  ? 

Write  an  account  of  cases  of  inheritance  of  nature  and  traits.  Is  there 
any  other  cause  of  these  traits  aside  from  heredity  ? 

State  what  you  owe  to  several  books  or  teachers.  Trace  the  origin  of 
various  ideas  and  impulses  in  your  own  life  and  among  your  neighbors. 

Describe  illustrations  of  the  many-sided  experiences  and  connections  of 
some  prominent  citizen. 

Is  it  ever  proper  to  use  a  human  being  as  a  means  to  some  social  end  ? 
What  gives  worth  ?     What  is  worthiness  ? 

Chapter  IV 

The  House.  —  Draw  a  map  of  a  small  district,  and  locate  all  the  houses. 
Point  out  defects  in  two  or  three  dwellings,  and  give  reasons  for  criticism. 

Hotisekeeping.  —  Describe  changes  in  your  neighborhood  during  a  half- 
century,  and  give  causes.  Are  these  changes  improvements  ?  Why  ? 
What  industries  have  been  transferred  from  home  to  factory  ?  Illustrate 
and  give  reasons.     Ask  old  citizens. 

What  is  the  personal  organization  of  the  home  ?  What  are  the  relative 
duties  of  each  member  of  the  family  ? 

What  are  the  social  functions  of  the  family  ?     Give  reasons. 

Family  Government.  —  Give  examples  of  failure.  How  may  the  home 
life  prepare  for  citizenship  ? 

Why  does  society  interfere  with  family  life  and  make  laws  for  it  ?  Give 
examples  and  reasons. 

In  what  respects  does  the  family  differ  from  other  social  institutions  ? 

How  may  the  family  contribute  to  social  order?     And  to  progress? 

What  are  some  of  the  perils  to  which  the  family  is  exposed?  Give 
reasons  for  divorce  laws.  Need  of  local  reprobation  of  quarrels  and 
divorce. 

Suggest  ways  of  bettering  the  intellectual,  moral,  aesthetic,  and  spiritual 
life  of  homes. 

Discuss  the  educational  opportunities  of  intelligent  home  life. 

Chapter  V 

Protection.  —  Add  local  illustrations  of  social  means  of  protecting  health, 
morals.  Is  there  need  of  rural  police?  Why?  What  is  the  need  of  a 
national  navy,  army,  and  state  militia?     State  Board  of  Health? 

Collect  other  examples  of  means  of  comfort  and  convenience  provided 


Appendix  40 1 

by  the  community.  Discover  local  defects.  Make  a  drainage  map  of  a 
district. 

Space. — Give  reasons  for  the  location  of  certain  farmhouses,  villages, 
towns.  Describe  the  means  of  transportation  and  communication  of  your 
neighborhood.  Point  out  defects,  and  find  out  who  is  to  blame.  Note  the 
contents  of  the  nearest  general  store,  and  reflect  on  the  origin  of  the  com- 
modities. How  many  nations  helped  to  prepare  your  breakfast?  How 
many  to  provide  your  clothing?  Suggest  improvements  in  the  postal  sys- 
tem. What  would  be  the  value  of  telephones  to  farmers  if  the  price  could 
be  made  low? 

Time-keeping.  —  Illustrate  the  social  value  of  clocks  and  watches. 

Illustrate  the  necessity  for  standards  of  weights  and  measures. 

Chapter  VI 

Useful  Arts.  —  Discuss  the  use  of  tools,  implements,  utensils,  and  ma- 
chines. Give  the  history  of  some  machine  known  to  you  through  several 
decades,  and  show  the  value  of  the  improvements :  for  example,  a  sewing- 
machine,  or  a  reaper.  Give  an  account  of  the  training  for  six  trades,  time 
of  learning,  modes  of  instruction,  terms  of  apprenticeship.  Why  are  agri- 
cultural and  other  trade  schools  more  necessary  than  they  were  forty  years 
ago?  Classify  the  useful  arts.  How  can  school  children  be  interested  in 
observing  and  understanding  the  useful  arts? 

What  is  the  social  function  of  language?  What  are  the  various  modes 
of  expression  :  as  voice,  writing,  etc.  ? 

Publicity.  —  Write  an  account  of  the  means  of  publicity  in  your  com- 
munity. Analyze  the  contents  of  a  local  newspaper.  How  much  of  this 
could  be  profitably  read  in  school?  Can  you  mention  any  evils  connected 
with  the  advertising  columns?  Why  are  vicious  notices  inserted?  W'hat 
hinders  newspapers  from  giving  all  news  correctly  and  impartially?  What 
magazines  circulate  in  your  locality?  If  you  have  a  public  library,  how  is 
it  supported,  and  what  can  be  done  to  improve  its  working?  How  much  is 
it  used?     What  books  are  most  popular?     Why  ? 

Fine  Arts.  —  Discuss  the  special  means  and  limitations  of  each  art. 
What  is  the  social  function  of  art?  Illustrate.  What  are  the  social  means 
of  aesthetic  culture  in  your  community?  What  more  can  be  done?  Has 
your  schoolhouse  one  good  photograph  of  a  great  picture  ? 

Chapter  VII 

Wants.  —  State  the  desires  which  are  satisfied  by  five  industries  known 
to  you :  as  gardening,  coal  mining,  etc.  Do  you  know  any  family  whose 
members  would  be  better  people  if  they  had  more  wants?  Is  discontent 
ever  a  good  ?     When  ? 

Work.  —  Is  work  necessary  to  life?  Is  work  always  a  sacrifice  and  pain- 
ful? Give  examples  of  " predatory  "  people  and  social  "parasites."  Is  the 
manual  laborer  the  only  productive  worker?  What  is  the  relation  of 
2D 


402  Social  Elements 


school  teaching  to  the  production  of  coal  and  woollen  goods?  Is  a  skilful 
physician  a  parasite?  When  can  a  "leisure  class"  be  of  advantage  to 
society?     What  is  the  "labor  cost"  of  an  article? 

Do  we  ever  have  to  economize  in  sunshine  and  air?  Why  is  economy 
necessary  in  gaining  and  using  grain?  Is  war  a  source  of  wealth?  Can 
workingmen  increase  the  amount  of  work  by  idling?  Who  pays  for  losses 
when  the  fire  insurance  company  indemnifies  a  loser?  Is  extravagance  at  a 
great  ball  or  party  a  benefit  to  mechanics? 

What  are  the  permanent  forms  of  capital?  Describe  the  division  of 
labor  in  a  shop  or  factory.     Why  do  not  all  do  the  same  acts? 

What  service  is  rendered  by  a  foreman  on  a  railroad  or  in  a  shop? 
What  is  the  difference  between  slavery  and  serfdom?  Describe  the  factory 
system. 

Describe  local  examples  of  barter,  exchange,  price,  money,  banking, 
management  of  a  business.  Give  arguments  for  and  against  "  free  silver  " 
bills  in  Congress. 

Combinations  of  capital.  What  is  a  "  trust  "  ?  How  do  large  combina- 
tions arise?  Have  they  any  use  ?  State  evils  and  dangers.  How  can 
society  regulate  them  and  make  them  subservient  to  the  public  good? 

Define  various  forms  of  income,  —  wages,  rent,  profits,  interest.  Is  it 
right  for  a  man  to  receive  rent  or  interest  from  workers  when  he  does  not 
work? 

Why  must  governments  have  income?  How  do  they  raise  funds? 
Who  pays  taxes?     Is  there  any  worker  who  does  not  pay  taxes? 

Discuss  the  limits  of  political  economy.  Are  economic  interests  the 
only  interests? 

.  Chapter  VIII 

Definition  of  "  social  progress  "  in  industry. 

Evidence  of  economic  progress.  Growth  of  wealth  and  productive 
power.  Sum  up  and  criticise  the  points  made  under  this  head  in  the  text. 
Compare  the  conclusions  with  old  account  books  of  wages  and  expenses 
of  households.     Ask  old  persons  to  help  you  from  memory. 

Causes  of  economic  progress.  State  the  points  in  the  text  and  add 
others. 

Has  any  social  class  been  excluded  from  the  advantages  of  economic 
progress?  State  objections  to  the  factory  system.  Is  it  altogether  an  evil 
that  "  the  rich  are  growing  richer  "?  Does  the  wealth  of  a  capitalist  make 
others  poor?  In  a  trade  must  one  party  lose,  or  may  both  gain?  Give 
examples  of  the  injury  done  by  speculation. 

Chapter  IX 

Ask  several  labor  agitators  and  leaders  what  they  mean  by  the  "  labor 
movement,"  and  what  they  are  seeking  to  gain,  and  by  what  ways. 

Is  there  need  of  a  trade  union  among  agricultural  laborers,  — "  hired 
hands"?     Reasons.     Ask  some  of  them  as  to  their  grievances  and  hopes. 


Appendix  403 


Have  school  teachers  trade  unions  or  any  organization  which  serves  the 
purpose?  Have  "domestics"  or  "hired  help"  any  unions?  How  do 
your  neighbors  regard  trade  unions?  What  arguments  are  used  on  both 
sides?  What  are  the  statistics  of  unions  in  your  county  or  state?  State 
the  objects  of  unions.  What  is  the  "minimum  wage"?  Does  the  union 
seek  to  prevent  men  of  superior  skill  from  receiving  higher  wages? 

Explain  methods  of  industrial  peace:  conciliation,  arbitration,  etc. 
What  are  the  duties  of  a  State  Board  of  Arbitration? 

Explain  profit  sharing,  and  state  the  arguments.  How  may  consumers 
unite  to  protect  themselves  and  to  favor  wage-earners? 

What  is  the  aim  of  Socialists?  How  do  they  differ  from  Anarchists? 
What  truths  have  they  urged? 

Offer  further  illustrations  of  "  practicable  socialism."  Think  of  practi- 
cable improvements  needed  in  your  state. 


Chapter  X 

Discuss,  with  local  illustrations,  the  condition  of  the  "  social  residuum." 

Give  a  classification  of  the  people  of  your  county  on  the  basis  of  their 
wealth  and  employments.  Give  examples  of  the  separation  of  these  classes 
anil  the  causes  of  their  feelings. 

Inquire  into  the  conditions  of  several  families  who  depend  on  the  pub- 
lie  for  aid,  and  study  the  causes  of  their  dependence.  In  how  many  cases 
is  drunkenness  the  reason?  In  how  many  cases  is  some  form  of  physical 
or  mental  weakness  the  cause?     And  how  did  they  come  to  be  weak? 

What  social  organization  have  you  for  distributing  relief  to  the  needy  ? 
What  defects  ?  Why  are  there  any  unemployed?  Narrate  the  biography 
of  some  young  man  who  has  been  sent  to  the  penitentiary  from  your 
county,  and  discover  the  causes  which  led  to  his  ruin.  Visit  county  jail  and 
poorhouse,  and  report  defects.  Inquire  what  is  the  effect  on  employment 
and  wages  of  supporting  able-bodied  poor  by  taxation.  Do  "  politics " 
affect  the  modes  of  distributing  public  relief  ?  Do  the  poor  demand  aid  as 
a  right  ?     Are  they  grateful  for  such  help  ?     Does  it  help  them  ? 


Chapter  XI 

Describe  the  organization  of  your  state  school  system. 

Discuss  the  opinions  of  local  leaders  about  the  value  and  needs  of  the 
public  schools. 

Criticise  and  improve  the  definitions  of  the  end  or  purpose  of  education. 

Discuss  the  question,  "  What  knowledge  is  of  most  worth  ?  " 

Is  there  a  natural  order  of  studies  ?     What  is  it  ? 

Give  examples  of  experiments  in  training  children  to  care  for  social 
problems  and  interests. 

Add  suggestions  about  the  improvement  of  rural  schools. 

Enlarge  the  argument  as  to  the  duty  of  society  to  its  schools. 


404  Social  Elements 


Chapter  XII 

Discuss  the  topics  of  the  text,  and  select  others  for  discussion.  Suggest 
ways  in  which  the  churches  may,  without  compromise  of  principles  and 
beliefs,  join  in  some  common  work  for  the  beneiit  of  the  community,  and 
so  increase  a  sense  of  social  unity. 


Chapter  XIII 

Give  local  illustrations  of  the  influence  of  family  feeling,  neighborhood 
sentiment  and  interests,  class  prejudices,  race  and  denominational  bonds, 
on  social  conduct  under  your  observation. 

Define  the  word  "  people  "  as  used  in  the  text.  Criticise  the  discussion. 
Describe  the  influence,  for  good  or  evil,  of  some  of  these  social  bonds. 

Chapter  XIV 

Distinguish  "  People  "  and  "  State."  What  are  the  functions  of  govern- 
ment ?  Describe  the  organization  of  government  in  your  county.  Note 
defects  and  the  causes  of  these.  Describe  a  political  club.  Explain  the 
nature  of  a  political  party. 

Explain  the  principles  and  history  of  civil  service  reform. 

Explain  the  "  Referendum."  Give  the  history  of  the  nominations  of 
county  and  town  officials.  Describe  a  primary  election,  and  give  the  law 
governing  such  elections  in  your  state. 

Chapter  XV 

What  are  some  of  the  problems  which  social  psychology  seeks  to  study  ? 
Illustrate  the  influence  of  nearness  in  space  upon  community  of  thoughts. 
Explain  the  causes  of  human  association.     What  is  the  social  mind  ? 

Give  examples  of  the  influence  of  suggestion  and  imitation  on  a  crowd 
or  on  a  school. 

Give  illustrations  of  the  testing  of  an  idea  in  a  school  or  in  a  political 
campaign.  Explain  the  method  by  which  ideas  and  inventions  are  con- 
served and  improved. 

Chapter  XVI 

Define  "social  order."  Illustrate  the  fact  that  a  community  has  a  belief 
in  a  right  order  of  society.  Give  examples  of  customs  and  sentiments 
which  regulate  conduct,  and  show  their  use.  Give  examples  of  acts  which 
are  forbidden  by  morality  but  not  by  law,  and  give  the  causes  of  the 
difference. 

What  are  the  chief  social  virtues?  Describe  from  observation  the  way 
in  which  influential  persons  have  gained  leadership. 


Appendix  405 

Chapter  XVII 

I  tefine  "social  progress."  Explain  the  function  of  invention.  What  do 
you  think  of  the  importance  of  "great  men  "  in  relation  to  social  progress? 
How  do  you  explain  the  existence  of  great  men? 

Give  illustrations  of  retrogression.  Discuss  methods  of  improving  the 
physical  well-being  of  a  people.  Methods  of  gaining  greater  command  of 
natural  forces.  I  low  can  people  be  induced  to  enlarge  and  refine  their 
enjoyments  and  entertainments? 

The  relation  of  the  public  school  to  race  progress. 


ER3I 


MAPS 


Numbers  I-IV  are  from  Kalamazoo,  Michigan,  and  Numbers  V-IX  are  from 
Franklin,  Indiana.  Materials  were  kindly  furnished  by  Rev.  Caroline  Bart- 
lett  Crane  and  Professor  Paul  Monroe,  Ph.D.,  former  students  in  the 
Department  of  Sociology  at  the  University  of  Chicago. 


I.  Kalamazoo,  Michigan.  Physical  features  of  the  county  ; 
lakelets,  streams,  and  watersheds.  Early  Indian  trails; 
camps  and  homes  of  first  white  settlers.  Township 
divisions. 

II.     Physical  features  of  the  city  site. 

III.  The  central  part  of  the  city,  illustrating  a  complex  system  of 

artificial  community  arrangements. 

IV.  The  systems  of  the  water  and  fire  departments. 


V.  Franklin,  Indiana.     The  settlement  in  1825. 

VI.  The  town  in  1840-41. 

VII.  The  additions  to  the  town  by  decades. 

VIII.  A  population  map  for  one  race. 

IX.     Public   buildings,   and   location   of  subscribers   to   a   local 
newspaper. 


Kalamazoo:  Physical  features  of  the  county;  lakelets,  streams,  and  water-sheds. 
Early  Indian  trails,  camps  and  homes  of  first  white  settlers. 

Township  Divisions. 


II 


Kalamazoo:  Physical  features  of  the  city  site. 


Ill 


Pavements  k..,„.v.»iS     Sewers  •—cf^—  Location  of  D-iscases:  Diphtheria  0        Typhoid  f ever  T, 

Scarlet  Fever  S, 

The  central  part  of  the  city,  illustrating  a  complex  system  of 
artificial  community  arrangements. 


IV 


Ward  Divisions 


Fire  Alarm  Boxes  A, A, A,       Water  Pipes City  Wells   L,M, 


Drinking  Fountains,  B,G,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K,       City  Fire  Limits  ^tt^fl 
The  systems  of  the  water  and  fire  departments. 


I    I    I    I    I    I     I    I 


I 

o 


Franklin,  The  settlement  in  1825. 


VI 


Franklin,  The  town  in  1840-1. 


VII 


The  additions  to  the  town  by  decades. 


VIII 


A  population  map  for  one  race. 


IX 


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